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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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1395 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



Voting Results (Smartest)
View Voting Results: Smartest and Funniest

 
2019-10-30 5:58:08 PM  
49 votes:
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 4:00:21 PM  
47 votes:
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 7:16:15 PM  
42 votes:
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 6:52:11 PM  
39 votes:
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.
 
2019-10-31 4:52:04 PM  
38 votes:
Today at work I got a Facebook message from a name I didn't recognize. It read simply " Were you Tharkin on Fark?" Well yes, I was, and still am I guess though I probably haven't posted in most of a decade. That feeling of "oh no, what did I do?" was probably the spookiest thing that's happened to me today (so far!)

Turns out she was following up on a story I posted in this very thread like 7 or 8 years ago. Pretty cool!  I'm about to take the kids out for trick or treat, but I'll check in later to read up on everyone's spooky stories this year.
 
2019-10-30 3:46:04 PM  
37 votes:
Woot, my favorite thread of the year! :)
 
2019-10-30 8:26:21 PM  
34 votes:
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 3:59:41 PM  
31 votes:
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 6:59:38 PM  
29 votes:
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.
 
2019-10-31 8:36:35 AM  
28 votes:
My Story, as told to me by my mother.

My mother left my father in the middle of the night, taking me with her. No money and no plan. Through a friend of a friend of a friend, she wound up renting a what was an old barn, converted into a single room apartment.

Having nothing, we slept on garbage bags of clothes, and eat what she could hunt or scavenge.

Knowing no one, we spent a lot of time in the barn, and I would always talk to the "Old Man". I eventually started calling him grandpa P. My last name begins with P, so my mom always assumed I had an imaginary friend. I would sit next to an old rocking chair (the barns only furnishing) and tell grandpa P about my day. At night, I would lay on the clothes and giggle and laugh myself to sleep.

We were there probably 5 or 6 months, and when we left, we stopped by the main house to tell the owner goodbye, and I apparently also told Grandpa P goodbye. When I said goodbye to Grandpa P, the woman turned to my mom and asked her more about grandpa P, and my mom told her about how I would talk and laugh next to that old chair.

The woman went into the other room and brought a photo out of her late husband, and according to my mom, I started shouting and pointing "Grandpa P!"

He had died a year or two previously, and the woman moved the rocking chair into the barn because she couldnt stand to see it empty. His name was Paul.

I dont know if I believe the story or not, I was too young to remember most of the details, I only vaguely remember the barn. Mostly, I remember how cold it would be at night, because there was only a single wood stove heating the entire thing, I remember my mom crying a lot, but I also remember how happy I was and was never lonely.

Maybe ghosts are real. Maybe they arent. But, my mom believes grandpa P was there, helping her through a difficult time, and I guess thats good enough for me.
 
2019-10-31 3:10:27 AM  
28 votes:
I'm sure that you all have heard tales of the charming roadside manifestations known as "white ladies". While some people posit that these beings are simply tragic remnants who are searching for a way "home", my personal experience is that they are otherworldly horrors who want to lure unsuspecting motorists to their doom. White women abound everywhere in Iowa and many are generally frightening under most circumstances but the pale vision that I encountered on the side of I-35 north of Des Moines was absolutely terrifying.

Several years ago, I was picking up a load of alpacas from western Minnesota in the middle of winter. I usually would cut southeast from Mason City to Cedar Rapids to get down to I-80 heading for Ohio, but the weather was so crappy that my co-driver and I decided to stick to the better-maintained interstate. Since my friend was unfamiliar with Iowa, I agreed to let him sleep until we hit Illinois. It was around 2 AM when we left a Mason City fuel stop and headed out into the snowy darkness.

Due the heavy snow, I pretty much was the only driver on the highway that morning. I was just cruising along at a steady 55 mph, drinking coffee and listening to the radio while trying to ignore my friend's snores. Everything was going as well as anything in Iowa could go until I came over a slight hill and saw what appeared to be a horrible accident scene. There was a flipped-over semi and several smashed cars on fire in the median. The smoke was so thick that it was hard to see clearly. There were several bodies laying in the snow and a bloody figure of a girl standing at the edge of the median trying to flag down help.

I started to carefully slow down, preparing to pull over on the opposite shoulder to see if I could help. Please keep in mind that this appeared to be a massive, multiple vehicle crash complete with the sound of screams and the smell of smoke. It would have never occurred to me to question the reality of what I "saw" if it wasn't for the fact that the girl approaching my truck was wearing shorts and a tank-top. In January. In Iowa.

Anyways, some instinct told me to take my foot off the brake and keep rolling forward. As I passed the slight, chestnut-haired girl covered in blood, my glance out of my window saw her change from a helpless crash victim into a twisted parody of humanity complete with horns, fangs, and glowing green eyes. As I sped off down the snow-covered highway as fast as the crappy weather would allow, I heard a piercing scream of rage (which drowned out my friend's snoring but still didn't wake his ass up). A further glance in my side-view mirror showed an undisturbed, snow-covered median which was empty except for a solitary figure watching me disappear down the road.

I have no idea how much of what I witnessed that morning was real or just due to some sort of fugue-like road-hypnosis. When you're driving long-distance with very little sleep, especially when it's snowing, your mind can play tricks on you. It's fairly common to see things that might not really be there. It's less common to also hear and smell things that aren't there. Maybe I was seeing an "echo" of a past tragedy, or maybe some demonic being was trying to lure an unsuspecting traveler to her demise. I don't know what would have happened if I had stopped but I've seen enough weird, scary shiat to know that I'm glad I didn't find out.

/it's a good thing that alpacas lay down when they travel
//yes, I stopped to check on them as soon as I reached the safety beacon of the nearest Flying J
///friend woke up when I pulled up to the diesel pump and asked "did I miss anything exciting?"
 
2019-10-31 5:01:24 AM  
27 votes:
My father was a civil engineer. My mother was a spoiled rotten trophy wife. While I was still in the womb, they went and bought one of the largest houses in Plainfield, Wisconsin where something was terribly amiss. My father traveled a lot. And the house needed work. My mother had never so much as washed dishes in her whole life, and she was pregnant with me, so my parents needed a little help. So my father hired this odd little man named Ed who used to spend most of his time hanging out at this mom and pop grocery store to look after the house and yard. According to my mother's cousins, my mom used to work Ed almost to death, and then shortchange him on his wages. One day, when my father was in town, it was snowing heavily, so he decided to drive to the farmhouse where Ed lived and pick him up. My father couldn't drive all the way up to the farmhouse because the road wasn't plowed, but he drove up as far as he could, and then started honking his horn.

While my father was honking his car's horn, he noticed what he thought was a haunch of venison hanging in the open door of Ed's barn. When Ed finally came out and got into the car, my father smacked him and told him that hunting deer was cruel. Ed meekly told my father that he never hunted deer.

A couple of weeks later, my father is far away working in Texas when he gets a phone call from my mother. She's in a panic. She tells my father that somebody was murdering women in Plainsfield, and that she was all alone, and she wanted my father to come home right now right away this very instant.

My father couldn't do that. It was the fifties. It would've taken a week at least. So he called up one of the neighbors instead, and asked that neighbor to over go to Ed's farmhouse and pick up Ed. Ed wasn't very much, my father explained, but at least he was something.

Well, the neighbor drove over to Ed's farmhouse, and he was rather surprised to see very nearly every cop in Wisconsin there. I was born a full month later. My mother had carried me for ten months. I guess I didn't want to come out until it was safe. But soon afterwards, my family moved to California just to be sure. Ed's last name was Gein. He later became Robert Bloch's real-life inspiration for his character Norman Bates for his novel Psycho and for the horror movie The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. That was the story as I have been telling it because that was how it was told to me.

The truth is that Ed Gein was arrested almost a week after I was born (my mom had still carried me for ten months). At the time of the arrest, they did find the body of one of Ed's victims dressed out like a deer and hanging in a shed.

My parents had arrived in Plainfield in 1955. They had run afoul of the KKK in Louisiana and had moved away as far as they could without leaving the country. While they were in Wisconsin, they gave the KKK a final middle finger salute by helping the first black man get elected sheriff there. In 1956, my father had started employing Ed Gein as a handyman. And it was that November when my father tried to drive up to Ed's farmhouse to pick up Ed.

In summer of 1957, the citizenry of Plainfield began to realize that something was very, very wrong in their community. They were acting like baby chicks in a barnyard being buzzed by a chickenhawk. Thankfully the horror ended and the people of Plainfield celebrated a true Thanksgiving the following month.

Decades ago at a book fair here in Las Vegas, I finally managed to talk to Robert Bloch himself about my family's involvement with Ed Gein. He told me that while he was in Plainfield doing research for his book, that he had indeed met and talked to my mother before my family had moved out of Wisconsin.

"Oh God, I remember that woman," Mr. Bloch said, "She thought my book was going to be about her."

And although he had never heard this particular take on the haunch of venison story before, he did tell me that as far as he knew, Ed had never shot a deer in his life. Mr. Bloch then said that doing research in Plainfield was a little bit like investigating the Jack the Ripper murders. There was an official count of victims, and then there was the unofficial count of victims. Many of Plainfield's residents felt that they never caught the real murderer, and that people had kept on going missing, and that graves continued to be disturbed in the outlying cemeteries. Some of the townies went as far as to tell Mr. Bloch that Ed Gein was only somebody's or something's Renfield. But whatever the case was, it's been almost six decades since Ed Gein was caught and sent to a mental asylum where he spent the rest of his life. And I imagine that the good people of Plainfield have never stopped locking their doors and windows before going to bed.
 
2019-10-30 5:08:21 PM  
27 votes:
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 7:49:34 PM  
24 votes:
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 3:28:00 AM  
24 votes:
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 7:07:43 PM  
23 votes:
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 3:36:50 PM  
22 votes:

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.
 
2019-10-31 7:15:14 AM  
20 votes:
There is a bond that develops between musicians and their favorite instruments.With me, it was a particular guitar.I don't like to talk brands, but I will say that it was a vintage hollow body electric that I found in pieces in the junk section of a music store in the late 1960's.I paid fifty bucks for it (which was a lot of money for me at the time) and took the parts home in a paper bag.I never even stopped to wonder at the time how or why it had come to be in the state it was in.

I had an uncle who was a carpenter, and I figured I could enlist his help in repairing my new guitar.I wouldn't go so far as to call him a luthier, but he had built a couple of guitars from scratch (I still own one of them), and he was a more than competent woodworker with a shop and tools.He taught me about hide glue, and binding, and refinishing with nitrocellulose lacquer.Together we figured out the wiring of the volume and tone circuits (all the pots, caps and knobs had to be replaced); we took the pickups out of their housings so that we could re-do the gold plating.We figured out the proper angle for the neck and replaced the tuners, recut the nut; and when we were finished it was the most beautiful instrument either of us had ever seen.The figures in the wood seemed to flow around the f-holes and external hardware like they had all grown together.Like a virgin boy with his first willing partner, when it was done I was almost afraid to touch it for fear of causing something so extraordinary to sound like crap.I named her Jezebel.

Let's face it, I'd never been that good of a guitarist.I could play chords and a bit of fingerstyle and sing at the same time (which put me ahead of a lot of casual players) but I'd never been able to solo to save my life.I had done the work practicing scales and arpeggios until long after the cows came home, but something about improvisation just never clicked in my head or fingers... until I plugged Jezebel into my dad's old Fender '57 Deluxe amp.Even with my clumsy fingers, she sang like an angel and my confidence soared right along, to the point that I didn't want to put her down.Sometimes I would lose myself so much that I would play for an hours, and my fingers would be as sore as a beginners.It was almost scary, realizing that at those times I couldn't tell what was coming from me and what was coming from her.

If you were an American male who could play guitar in 1968, you were in a band and I was no exception.Three friends and I had our own "rock band" and we got together on Saturday evenings to practice in my family's garage. Bob played drums, and kept pretty good time; Allan played bass, Rick was lead guitar and I was rhythm and vocals.My old guitar was a crappy Silvertone acoustic, so even though we considered ourselves a rock band we did quite a bit of folksy Peter, Paul and Mary stuff... until the night I brought out Jezebel.I took my first solo break that night on Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away," and when we finished the guys were all staring at me."I think somebody's been holding out on us" was Rick's comment.He begged me to let him play her, and I found myself making excuses.The truth was, I was jealous.

The band changed direction that night, and we came up with a whole new list of songs to learn and play.Actual, honest to god rock and roll songs that everyone knew but we had never tried together, and we started practicing three times a week.Two weeks later Allan announced that we had a gig, a birthday party for a girl he was trying to impress; we would play for an hour and split twenty bucks.

We opened the show with the Stones "Paint it Black" and we almost knocked those girls out of their chairs; even the parents were gaping at us, and by the time the show was over you would have thought we were the goddam Beatles.Had it not been a sunny Saturday afternoon in a nice suburban backyard with parents present, I'm absolutely certain we would have ALL gotten lucky.

It was our break; a couple of the girls knew kids on the student council, and a week later our band was asked to play the local High School "back to school" sock-hop.The set list was ready-Stones, Jefferson Airplane, the Monkees, the Doors.We were ready to blow the roof off the school gym... and the afternoon of the big show, I sprained my left wrist in PE class.There was no way we could cancel the gig, and anyway I could still sing; but there was no way I could play.Rick had been drooling over Jezebel since the first time I brought her out to practice with the band, and now he was on his knees begging me to play her.The only thing I could say was yes.

We started the first set with "Happy Together," and built it up from there.Rick was on fire; he never missed a lick and was playing better than I'd thought humanly possible.At the first break though, I noticed he was really sweating, like drenched in sweat."Hey, you OK man?" I asked.He said he was fine, just needed a drink and some air, so we each grabbed a cup of spiked punch and headed outside for a smoke.I think that "punch" was more like red-colored Everclear.Rick seemed pale and not himself, but I hardly got another chance to talk to him; everybody was coming up, complimenting us on the show, telling us how awesome we were.In no time, we had to head back onstage for the second set, and Rick's cup got set on top of my dad's Fender amp.

Bob hit the opening drum riff for "Paint it Black" like a madman; we had this set down cold.Kids were dancing, girls were staring up at us with open lust in their eyes, and everything was perfect... except there was Rick, playing fantastically on my guitar with girls almost drooling on themselves as they gazed at him.A few songs later, I was quietly fuming as we swung into "Somebody to Love," the anger probably helping me hit Grace Slick's out-of-my-range notes, when I started to hear screaming from the girls down front.And not good "I want to bang you, Paul McCartney" screaming, but ugly "oh my farking god, what is happening?" screaming.I opened my eyes (you can't sing "Somebody" without closing your eyes) to see what was happening, and these girls are screaming, clutching-almost clawing-at their faces, staring at Rick.

I turned to my right to look and dropped the mic as Bob and Allan crashed to silence, Bob dropping his sticks as Allan and I both jumped back away from Rick on the small stage.Jezebel was still playing, angel voice pounding out of that '57 Deluxe amp, as Rick played on, transfixed.
He stood stiffly straight, blood streaming from this tightly closed eyes, his ears, his nose, and from his ruined fingertips.His white shirt and tie were drenched from it streaming off his chin, but he played on and on for what seemed like hours but could only have been moments.I was close enough to hear the grating sound of the bones of his fingertips against the guitar strings, and I swear I even heard the soft popping noise as his eyeballs collapsed behind his eyelids and then slid down his face, along with the louder crunch as his clenched jaw broke behind the rictus of his bloodstained teeth.

The b-string broke on the final bent note, as Rick's lifeless body fell backward onto the amp, spilling Everclear onto the hot tubes, which instantly burst into flames.There were no automatic sprinkler systems in those days, and the fire quickly licked up across Rick's body to Jezebel, where her nitrocellulose lacquer practically exploded.Screaming kids were running for the exits even before the fire alarm started its shrill, strident clanging.Bob and Allan had abandoned the stage, as I ran to the lighting panel and killed power to the amps and PA, but it was too late; the fire had spread to the stage curtains and the smoke was so thick I almost didn't make it out.
I no longer envied my friend for what he was able to play on "my" guitar, and I wonder to this day if it was only my lack of true talent that saved me from his fate.
 
2019-10-31 4:10:31 AM  
20 votes:
I'm a bit of a skeptic, but I do have one creepy, possibly supernatural story.

The house I grew up in had a loud knocking sound for as long as I can remember. It was usually late at night, but sometimes it happened in the middle of the day when I was home alone. I was a night owl, and sick a lot as a kid so I was up late or home sick pretty often. I heard the knocking all the time, and was used to it. I never regarded it as supernatural. I just figured it was pipes, or the house settling. It was an old house.

The only strange thing about the knocking is that it always came in pairs. It was loud and clear, and sounded like two distinct knocks on my bedroom wall. It was always the same place on the wall, and always the wall that had the stairs to our unfinished basement on the other side.

Two other details of my parents' house might be relevant. My bed was pushed up against the wall in question so I slept against it, and at the foot of my bed was a closet. It used to be a door to another room, but my dad converted it to an extra closet because there had been a weirdly small hallway between the rooms.

In my late teens I began experiencing sleep paralysis, which is creepy, but not necessarily supernatural, depending on what you believe. Being a nerd, I had researched it, and thought it was just a medical condition.

One night I woke up unable to move, but on that night I saw a figure standing at the foot of my bed. My room was completely black, but I could see a deeper black shape in the darkness. It looked like a tall, skinny woman with a huge mass of hair. I felt like she was staring at me. While I watched, she raised her left arm to the wall, and knocked twice. I heard the familiar sound, and let out a breath as I was suddenly able to move again. I blinked, and she was gone.

I've gone back over that night in my head a million times, and I still don't know if what I experienced was supernatural, or just some weird combination of sleep paralysis, and the knocking. I could write it off as a typical case of sleep paralysis hallucination, except how did my mind known when the knock was going to come?

I never saw the figure again. I still get sleep paralysis on rare occasions, but nothing like the regularity it had back then. The knocking never stopped. My parents still live in that house, but converted my bedroom into a laundry room. Nobody sleeps there anymore.
 
2019-10-31 9:47:44 PM  
19 votes:
a particular individual:  Hey! I actually got worried about you after your Halloween story. You said you were going back the next day, and that was it. I even posted a thread asking after you.

Your story reminded me a lot of Stephen King, especially Dream Catcher. Which was a terrible book. But your story creeped me the fark out.


Sorry for the worry!  I did go back shortly afterward.  In fact by now I've spent quite a bit of time in the general area.  I shot a deer some years ago not too far from where I saw the guy looking up at the trees and I've spent a night in a tent with my wife and kids in a clearing nearby.  I wish I had some cool follow-up story to tell, but the truth is I've never experienced anything weird there again.  That night was definitely bizarre though.  I'll pretty much chalk the animal behavior up to the storm.  Weird weather does weird things to animals, although I've never seen that particular behavior since.  The feathers?  I dunno.  It'd be easy enough to believe that someone out for a walk in the woods was just messing around if that area hadn't been such a dense thicket.  Not many people really go up there anyway outside of snowmobiling later in the winter.  It really seems like something that had to be done with intent by a person, but who knows?  Maybe it wasn't so thick in the springtime, or something.  It's weird but I guess it's not unfathomable. The guy though...I do wish I knew what was up with that guy.

hiredgoonz:

So you unintentionally created a fark Halloween thread legend...

/much respect


Hah, I was genuinely surprised to hear that anyone but me still remembered that story at all.  It's really been a thing all this time?  That's pretty cool.
 
2019-10-31 12:52:21 PM  
18 votes:
I've had no luck finding ghosts; however, I'm an avid outdoorsperson and goth chick, so I find forgotten graves and cemeteries in the deep woods constantly.
Indiana was completely deforested by 1900, which caused environmental collapse, which caused many people on the poorest farmland (the hills) to have to sell it by the 1930s, which caused the Civilian Conservation Corps to come in and aggressively plant as many trees as possible. So all of our state and federal wildernesses have the ruins of old homesteads.
The trickiest one to find was so deep in the forest, off of where a reservoir flooded an old town, that we had to download survey maps from the 1940s to even guess. Most of the gravestones in these areas predate literacy and masonry skills, but some count as folk art.
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And this one from a hill above the flooded town:
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But the absolute most remote gravestone I ever photographed was south of Red Lake, Ontario, at the site of a former logging camp. There were no other stones. We had to fight our way the mere 20 feet into the woods to get to it. We needed a machete.
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Then the Ontario provincial bird swarmed us, we freaked the hell out, and clawed our way back to camp, flailing and cursing.
Never again.
 
2019-10-31 7:53:38 AM  
17 votes:
When I worked at the airplane company, we used to prank each other.  Tape over the mouthpiece of the phone so they can't hear you, that kind of stuff.  There was this device called the Annoyatron.  It's a little device and you can hide it anywhere.  It would make random beeps and little voice that would say "Hello" and "Can you hear me?"


Every couple of weeks the Annoyatron would come out and find itself under someone's desk.  Phil seemed to have short term memory issues because he would always fall for it.  They'd set it to beep mostly but once they used the voice and it freaked Phil out.


So, one day, I come back to my desk and I'm doing something when I hear "Can you hear me?"  Okay, I admit, it freaked me out a bit.  The voice actually comes out of no where.  So I look around.  There's a magnetic base so it has to be in the overhead or attached to the cabinets.  Nothing.  "You have to help me".  Back of the computer?  Nope.  "Please help!"  I look around to see if they're watching me.  Everyone is pretending to be busy.   Some crying.  Alright.  This is funny.  I decide that if I leave, they'll pull the Annoyatron out from where ever they hid it and we'll all have a nice laugh.  The voice says "Harry, you're my only hope!"  No.  No it doesn't.  I just misheard it, right?


So i walk over to another office, talk to a guy about work and go back.  Voices are gone.  No one is laughing or anything.  The weakest link is Bill.  I ask him out in the hall where they put the Annoyatron on my desk.  That way, if they do it to me again, I'll know where to look.  Bill is absolutely honest.  Cannot lie about anything.  He says "Mary told them to stop using the Annoyatron after Phil.  It was too disruptive."  This gets confirmed by another, less honest person.


So I chalk it up to my imagination.  At 3 pm, I walk out to the parking lot.  We used to have the best parking lot at the airplane factory.  Never full.  You could go to lunch and there would be a spot when you came back.  Then Virtual Warfare moved some jobs around and the parking lot would fill up by 7 am.  I recently stopped going out to lunch which was a shame because there is that Chicago hot dog place out on Lindbergh.  I jump in the car and drive home.


Next morning, it's just like any other at the the airplane factory.  I go through the email and there's a blast to everyone about making sure your kids are safe around automobiles.  A kid got run over in a driveway somewhere.  It seemed to be a recurring event. This is before backup cameras on cars. At lunch time, I go up to the cafeteria and a couple of women are talking about something. I catch a part about "a tragedy" and "what a horrible way to die"


Later in the office, one of the guys I used to go to lunch says something like "You know if we went to lunch like we used to, we probably would have heard her pounding on the trunk. The car was right next to where Harry always parks." I ask to be brought up to speed and they explain that a guy with an old Ford sedan, the same guy who I battle for the parking spot at the end of the row, didn't know that his daughter climbed in to his trunk before work yesterday. He was loading up his softball equipment for his game that evening. When he got to the ball park, well you can guess the rest
.
I don't mention the voice.
 
2019-10-31 3:12:12 AM  
17 votes:
Well, after lurking in this thread since the first one dropped sixteen years ago, I suppose it's time to share my creepy experience. Or, more accurately, my wife's creepy experience.

It's 2009. We're in Portland, OR for my wife's college roommate's wedding. Neither of us had been to Portland, so we go up a couple of days early to explore the city. I had talked my wife into doing a ghost tour as one of our activities. I like doing ghost tours because it usually ends up being a cool history lesson peppered with spooky stories. My wife, on the other hand, doesn't really do spooky, so it took some convincing. Oddly enough, she agreed to do this tour because we found out they handed out EMF meters for the tour, and she found the notion kind of charming if not goofy.

Our first stop on the tour is a 19th century saloon hotel that was home to a few ladies of the night back in the day. After we climb the main stairwell and arrive on the second floor, the host tells us about one particular lady named Rose, and how she met a violent death at the hands of a john named Sam. He then tells us to wander the floor's narrow corridors and encourages us to call out for Rose, EMF meters in hand. He also tells us not to call out for Sam ("He doesn't like to be disturbed," our guide informs us). We're the only ones in the group that goes down the corridor to the right of the stairwell. The rest of the group follows the guide down the left-side corridor.

We play along and start saying stuff like "Hi, Rose. We're sorry about what happened, we'd like to see you." We're feeling pretty silly while doing so...until we get to the corridor's fifth set of doors. Suddenly, my wife's EMF meter lights up like a slot machine and its needle to register activity moves as far right as it can go without flying off the device. I'm standing right next to her, and my machine isn't doing a thing. My wife, eyes locked on her lit up machine, says, "Honey, can you get the tour guide?"

I quickly flag the guide over to us and explain what had happened. He asks for my wife's EMF meter, explaining that the devices have been known to malfunction on occasion. She hands it to him, and he hits its button to activate the device...nothing. No lights, no needle movement, not a single thing. He hands it back to my wife, and she hits the button. It immediately lights up and the needle maxes out again. The host, in a calm voice that lets you know that he's seen some stuff go down in this one-time property of ill repute, informs us that Rose usually only presents herself to women. At that moment, the hairs on my wife's neck stand up and she starts getting light-headed. We get the hell out of the corridor.

We gather with the rest of the group by the stairwell and my wife shares her experience. It's at that time that the host tells us that we were standing in front of the room where Rose got murdered. Good times.

I'd like to think that we experienced something freaky and unexplained. (Well, my wife directly and me by proxy). With that being said, I wouldn't be disappointed if it was revealed to be a trick. If it was a deception, it was one hell of a cunning ruse.
 
2019-10-31 4:59:01 PM  
16 votes:
When my son was 3, he had that hilarious toddler personality that combined a wild imagination with
inflexible, rabid enforcement of the facts he just made up.

One day he decided that he had his very own house, and it was a green one, and it was in Germany so we couldn't see it. No girlfriend in Canada, but he had a green house in Germany.  Months later, if we tweaked this even little a bit ("don't  you have a blue house in Germany?") he'd look at us like we were idiots, and patiently correct us.

Another time, after we watched The Motorcycle Diaries, he insisted that back when he was 18, he had a motorcycle too. His mother tried to tell him that he never was 18, but that was obviously a losing battle. It was his toddler fact, and he heard himself say it so it was unquestionably true.

He spent hours imitating his teacher in daycare, authoritatively lecturing his own reflection in his crib mirror (no longer using a crib, still using the mirror), pretending to read books to his "class" and confidently declaring ludicrous random facts about the human body or swords or whatever.

This was all hilarious and wonderful and fun, as everyone with a toddler knows.  But then I shared some of his stories with our neighbor. Our neighbor is in his 90s, actually fought in WWII, and is normally tough as nails.  If I don't shovel the snow early enough in the morning he'll come out and do it before I get a chance.

That day, however, he grew a bit pale and ... aged, I guess, looking more like a 90-year-old than usual.  He quietly told me that the previous owners of my house, who lived here most of their lives, did have a house in Germany, and they had a son who died in a motorcycle accident at 18.

Then he asked me if my kid was looking into mirrors a lot.

Why, I asked?  Because after their son died, the owners went off the reservation a bit.  The husband had a small stroke, and recovered but with a 180-degree change in his personality.  Afterwards he was a mean bastard in every way.  His wife sort of lost her marbles taking care of him, and she began this strange habit of staring into the mirror over the mantelpiece for hours on end, sometimes smiling or grimacing at it, sometimes launching into creepy conversations with it.

Once the neighbor paid a visit to check up on them---he was the only one who would, now that mean bastard husband was such a mean bastard.  Mean bastard husband told him to go to Hell, blamed him for his basement flooding (?), accused him of stealing things from his garage, etc.  Okay, have a nice day mean bastard husband. Then the neighbor checked how the wife was doing.  She was in her usual place staring at the mantle, and she  plainly said, "you have to murder him."

"Edna," he began, "I know things are tough right now."

"Yes, and her too. Both of them."  She was completely ignoring him, talking to the mirror.  "When you're older.  I told you this."

So now my neighbor has some freaky superstitious ideas about looking into mirrors and he made me promise to keep the boy away from them.  I was freaked out enough that I agreed. I still find him sometimes at the bathroom mirror, but he jumps away from it whenever he hears me coming.  Sometimes he'd look really guilty, some other times he'd just be sad and want to hug me for a few hours.
 
2019-10-31 4:26:22 PM  
15 votes:

meg12279: Honest Geologist: meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."

Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.

It is reassuring.  The medium also told me that my son and I find pennies all the time, and that he leaves him. Without fail, every time the man is on my mind, I'll find a penny.  And not just laying around like you always do-there will be a bright shiny one on a surface I just cleaned, so I know it wasn't there before.


My beloved labradoodle, the Dude, died suddenly when he was only 7 years old. Cancer out of the blue. Three days after I had him euthanized, I dreamed that I was lying in my bed (as I was) and the Dude was lying where he always used to lie on the foot of the bed. Dude said he was sorry he had to go. I said "I guess this is the only way we can be together now." He said something to agree, and I sat there and petted him and went into another dream. Two nights later, he was back, and told me he had to go, and he loved me.

I don't believe in ghosts or an afterlife, but I had those dreams that were exactly like being awake.

God, I miss the Dude. Such a good friend.

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2019-10-31 12:28:17 PM  
15 votes:
Last year, we went for vacation in Jekyll Island, GA, supposedly one of the most haunted places in america, yada yada yada.

There dozens of these swanky turn of the last century mansions and being a big dork for architecture, I'm photographing some of the now empty mansions. I get this one that is one of the oldest on the island and it's abandoned. I walk up onto the porch and peek in the windows and it is absolutely perfect inside, empty, but immaculate. Being the scumbag kind of guy I am, I try the handle. No dice, it's locked.
I walk out front to get a pic of the front of the house and the auto-face detection centers on a second story window. The window is empty and I just sorta chuckle and restart the camera. Turn the camera back on and the same thing happens. Auto-face detect centers on the same second story window. The hairs go up on the back of my neck. I shut the camera off again and walk closer to the house, thinking it's an old building and the windows were probably hand made and the glass is reflecting the evening light unevenly. I turn the camera on again and the auto-face detect once again centers right on the same second story window. I'm now officially interested and walk up on the palatial front porch and try the front door handle. Locked as well. I turn the camera on and now the auto-face detect centers on the window in the front door. Again, I shut the camera down and restart, it does the same thing again. I look at the door window and smile and wave.  I walk away with an uneasy feeling.

After reviewing the photos, there was nothing in any of the windows I could see
 
2019-10-31 11:28:54 AM  
15 votes:
No actual spooky stories from me this year. But I will post a few photos of a job I was on this summer. We were going around investigating abandoned mine sites in northern Ontario in preparation for investigations and cleanups if necessary. Nothing supernatural beyond the incredibly creepy feeling you get knowing that you're standing above hundreds of metres of subterranean tunnels, or on top of a capped mine shaft, or a few feet away from an OPEN mine shaft in the middle of the woods, and that you drove an hour on gravel logging roads to get here and no one will find you if you disappear...

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2019-10-31 10:12:26 AM  
15 votes:
Used to live in this old apartment building, like 1900's old.  The place had once been a luxury apartment building - all the nicest stuff for the era.  Windowless servants rooms (cum storage rooms) in the basements, there had apparently been a kitchen down there that served food for the weird, checker floored ballroom space as well as dumbwaiters in each and every apartment's kitchen.  The walls were made of like 2 feet of concrete.  Very few trees were injured in the making of this place. It was a great place to live, even if the whole place, particularly the basement, felt like the Shining. It had an old, shabby elegance - faded from it's days of glory, but well-kept and nice if no longer luxurious. I lived in 4 apartments in 2 separate stints.  The largest one - a 3 bedroom 2 bath monstrosity - I lived in with room mates on 2 separate occasions, and the 1 BR ones I lived in after moving out of the palatial digs.

The first time I lived in the 3BR place, nothing really happened.  Lived there for a year during great school, with monthly trips to Cleveland to visit my then-girlfriend.

But when I returned 5 years later with a different room mate....  The place had changed.  It felt fine, but there was a lot more "activity" that I have remembered from the 1st stint.  The toilets would spontaneously flush, for instance.  Now recall, this apartment has like 2' concrete walls, and was basically at the end of an 'X' all by itself.  This wasn't someone else's toilet flushing.  Weird things would happen all the time.  The ceiling light fixture in my room mate's room disappeared, only to be found at the back of my room mate's closet when we moved out.  I had an incident with a CD player refusing to play a song one afternoon.   Some friends and I witnessed my room mate's chair shaking violently as he snoozed in it one night (admittedly after we had returned from a night of drinking to have one more).  I would see small dark figures flitting through my periphery that I thought was 1 of the cats - until I realized they were both curled up next to me....

Many of these are probably explainable.  Old plumbing, dust on the CD, our general state if inebriation at this time....

But the incident I can't really explain....  I had settled in early for the night and was sitting in bed reading.  My cat, Gwynn, had jumped up on the bed with me and curled up.  Around 9pm or so, I heard keys fumbling in the old  hearlock.Gwynn  dit, too.  She looked up, and as she often did, jumped off the bed to greet us at the door, I assumed.  The door opened, and I distinctly heard my room mate say - "Why, hello, Gwynn!" I heard him go into his room, and in a few minutes, Gwynn came back in and jumped up on the bed.

15 minutes later, I heard the key in the lock, and the door open.  I don't remember if the cat reacted, but I was like WTF?  I got out of bed and went out to the entryway, where my room mate was standing, coat on, carrying some stuff.

I was puzzled.  "Did you...  Come in a few minutes ago, go out, and just come back in?"

"No," he said.  "First time I've been home all night."

"Because...." And I told him there whole story.

"I wish you hadn't told me that," he said.  And then he told me how his bed had woken up to his bed shaking the last few nights.
 
2019-10-31 3:05:09 AM  
15 votes:
I live in a 90 year old house with my two sons. They've lived here all their lives and it's always had a little bit of a haunted house feel to it.

There's a cabinet in the hallway that looks like it used to be the whole house breaker. A big copper switch with bare copper wires running through it. Obviously not working anymore, so all the previous tenants have left a little note, a book the guy who lived here just before we moved in - "Warm Bodies", a zombie love story that was turned into a movie, some weird bones, medicine bottles with droppers, a wooden statue thing, roses made out of leather and barbed wire, a wax astronaut, and some kind of pamphlet from Burning Man 1996.

On October First we found out that the house has been sold to developers who are going to kick us out and tear it down. My kids start crying every time we talk about it. Came home yesterday to a water shutoff notice on the door because the new owners haven't paid the bill. Haven't even paid October rent because I have no idea who owns my house now.

It's the scariest story I have right now.

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2019-10-31 2:23:26 AM  
15 votes:
There is no afterlife but there is something that I can touch with my mind.  It may actually be where that special "spark" - that brings consciousness to what might otherwise be the mere complex of biological automatons - goes when we die.  Or it might be a thin-spread pool of energy that waits to flood and fill a new person's latent mind.  Probably both, I think.

I used to totally disbelieve in reincarnation, but now I'm not so sure.  Consciousness seems to inhabit all living things but in wildly divergent ways.  Trees simply don't have the same, I don't know, template?  Network? The scale of complexity which is nothing without the special something energy inlaid.  But even living trees *do* have the some of the something. I can feel it now.  It laughs in thin leaves, skips in the phloem, saunters in the sapwood and slumbers in the heart.  But I don't think it thinks, not like we do.  Giggles often, sometimes weeps.  It's not always easy being a tree.

Whew, I digress.  I came to all this through depression.  I'd heard people talk about "dark clouds" of depression but my early adolescent bouts of angst and morbid thoughts never seemed like that.  I didn't know real depression until much later in life, when I had reached the final desperate place in my chemical addiction.  Now I not only could see the dark cloud, but if I touched it in my mind, and I couldn't not touch it, it was sticky and enveloping and would settle onto my mind and crush at my very being.  Smothering at that something, quenching its happy tingle of living.  It brought to me a paradoxical mortal dread of continuing to live.

Then I was forced into treatment for alcoholism.  I say "forced" because I didn't want to be cured, I wanted everything to stop.  But I'm weak and people would hurt if I "stopped" and that would be my fault, so in my weakness it was easier to do what they said.  So I did it.

I was given lessons for many things and asked to become "spiritual" which to me was tantamount to being "religious" which is worse than dying, I thought.  I was told to pray and meditate.  I couldn't pray, so I meditated even though their lessons for meditation were prayer.  I found my own ways to meditate and as my physical addiction eased and my health improved, I found that I could look at the dark cloud again and I had to touch it.

I would poke slowly and gently to it, even though I had cautiously applied mental Vaseline to make me slippery.  This was scary but exhilarating too.  It would catch at me and almost have me but I thrilled at this nearness to annihilation - like a parachute-drop ride at the amusement park, the body says "we're dead" but the mind says "weee!"

Then I got a little bored, frightened and then I got serious.  I knew I couldn't keep it with me forever because eventually it must be my end.  So one night in my special meditation, I pushed at it.  I pushed HARD all at once but it tried to flow around me and I suddenly realized I had an unprotected flank and no plan for this.  And somehow I knew it was too late for plans.  I had to finish this if I could.  I opened my mental wings to my sides and to the back and tried to sweep it forward, back in front where I could see it.  My right wing was strong but my left was hurting madly so I curled my right into a giant knife-edged fist and punched through it with the full momentum of my psyche.  A full third it slithered free and I bum-rushed that part, heedless of what was behind me.

I pushed and I tucked my chin down and to the left and cupped the loose bit of it between there and my right... appendage, pushing with my middle.  As I lost touch with my left-hind mind I could only see the smaller part of it in my half embrace and it was stopped at a boundary, a barrier.  Desperate and slippery but getting sticky I heaved and the barrier split.  I gasped and pulled the barrier to me with it between. I pulled at the barrier and the rift widened grudgingly as it pushed inside.

And then it was gone.  No, not all of it, just the third I had cornered.  The rest of it seemed to still be with me, but less coherent, dispersed.  And something else... I think something else came in to replace the missing part.  No, I'm sure of it.  Call it conservation of energy, conservation of "it" but apparently I couldn't just push a part of me - yes it was me I tore apart and tried to banish - behind the barrier.  I am required to be complete until my template is gone.

It's wrong. I'm wrong. The template is meant to be filled, *imbued* slowly, not patched with randomness.  It's been three years and I'm changing.  I may be going mad, but how can I tell?  I'm not hurting.  I feel strange and good.  And I can see you.  I can't touch you, yet, but I can see your spark and I'd like to play with it.
 
2019-10-30 4:17:32 PM  
15 votes:

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.
 
2019-10-31 5:17:20 PM  
14 votes:
As a board certified wet blanket atheist (which makes me the athiest), here's a couple stories.

When I was a teenager, my grandparents lived out on Puget Sound, south of Seattle. They lived just a 5 minutes walk from the rocky beach. It really was a great spot, though being from Texas I thought it was kinda chilly. Anyway, there was a burned down boat house not too fr up the beach. We were warned not to go out on the remains - they were unstable and a girl had already died there.

So first thing I do is go out and explore the remains. It was more walking on top than looking in. You could see through to the water, though. Interesting and exciting. So I happen to look down and I see a head. There's long hair swirling in the water from the action of the waves, which are pretty gentle there. A jerk back, of course, and when I look again, nothing is there.

So of course, my reaction is to look around and wonder if someone's trying to pull something. My brother is poking at something that had washed up a little ways away and there's nobody else around. So I look back and now there's not just a head. I can see her face. It's a young woman. Probably about my age. And... well... dead. No way that she's alive. But she looks peaceful - eyes closed, mouth gentle.

This, of course, freaks me the hell out. And it's even worse because she wasn't there for a moment. So I yell for my brother, who starts to come over. When I look back, her eyes are open and she's no longer peaceful. Her eyes are open, looking right at me, and she's snarling.

So I ske-farking-daddle. I meet my brother at the edge and tell him that it started to shiat under me. No way I'm telling him anything that risks him going to look. Never went back up on those remains again. No way in hell.

------------------------

A shorter one, now. When my son had just moved from his little bassinet by our bed to his crib in his own room, I woke up one night terrified. I knew something was wrong with him. So I hurry over to his room - it takes only 6 steps from my bedside to his if I'm hauling ass. I look down and the crib is full of gore. It's horrible. Blood all over. He's... open.

I shout something and look back for my wife. When I look back, he's fine, except for the fact that his dad just woke him up by standing over his bed screaming like an idiot.

----------------------

Wet blanket time. I did go back UNDER the boat house at low tide. There was stringy seaweed and a contour on the bottom that would make the water swirl like it was going around something, even without a rock right there. I saw seaweed and my imagination did the rest. Also, my grandfather made up the death to try to keep us off the remains.

And for the second, I was badly sleep deprived. That'll do all kinds of things to you.

Still, just because there's an explanation doesn't mean it wasn't scary.
 
2019-10-31 4:31:31 PM  
14 votes:
True Story Bro:
Several years ago my husband (then boyfriend), a friend, and I were heading out to an SCA event out in the Bay Area. Sorta. It was off of some weird exits in the middle of nowhere, and thanks to some packing issues and things it was dark by the time we got to (what we tonight was) our exit, off of 880 to Old Calaveras Road. It was a twisting, windy, one-lane road, and this was the days before cheap GPS (or smartphones, just old Nokias), so we were valiantly trying to follow the printed instructions. (Also, f*ck you, MapQuest.)

At some point the trees got very tall and overgrown, and we began to see animals just chilling by the side of the road. Or the middle of it. Most wildlife will book it at the presence of a motor vehicle, but these farkers just watched us go by. Silently judging us. ...Okay, creepy. We're not superstitious or believe in supernatural weirdness, but something about this place just didn't seem right. Our friend had passed out for a nap in the backseat and she woke up because something felt off, too.

Then the radio shut off.

No static or fading or anything. Off.

F*ck it, nope. We pulled the fastest 3-point turn we had ever done and booked it the hell out of there. The radio came back on. A few minutes later the itchy, prickling feeling went away. We could see the sky again.

Apparently Old Calaveras Road crosses 880 like a badly stitched wound and we had taken the wrong exit. After getting the correctexit we proceeded to wend our way up a switchback road up the hill, nearly melting the damn brakes. (That Olds got put through a LOT during its lifetime.) We stopped at a gate, and wondered if we were in the right place, when some gigantic bloke of Italian descent, wearing black leather and fur, detached from the shadows to ask if we were here for the SCA event, and goddamn near got clocked or run over by my now-jumpy BF, who is 6'5 and built like an outhouse constructed of cement building materials, as it were. We went in, found a spot where we would camp, and parked the car. Achy from the trip, we got out and stretched-

And saw more stars than we'd ever seen before. In a bit of a bowl atop one of the hills/mountains in the Coastal Range this place blocked the city lights that normally erased the sky. We had never seen the Milky Way before, and constellations that previously been just a couple of points of light were now stellar portraits. Definitely worth the mortal terror we had experienced only a couple of hours before. :)
 
2019-10-31 2:35:13 PM  
14 votes:
We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."
 
2019-10-31 1:42:31 PM  
14 votes:
In 2000, I lived in San Jose with my now ex-wife. We went out one late-fall/early-winter evening around 7 pm going somewhere in Los Gatos (I don't remember where we were headed). I was driving and she was in the passenger seat. I had taken a couple of wrong turns and we were a bit lost in an upper-middle-class residential area. This neighborhood was fairly well-lighted, clean, and looked like it had been built in the 1950s. I decided to pull into an empty driveway at random to turn around and go back the opposite direction in search of our destination. My left turn lead to a typical garage attached to a non-nondescript house with a light-colored paint job. A couple of lights were on in the house, and the shades were all down. The front end of our car had barely crossed the sidewalk when I felt a cold wave of fathomless, evil fear pass over and through me. We were about 25 feet from the garage door. I instantly hit the brakes and at the same time glanced at the ex. Her eyes were open wide, and she was staring straight ahead. She said, "Get out of here," in a very serious, flat tone of voice. I was already in reverse and got out of that neighborhood as fast as I could. We decided to forget about an evening out and headed straight home. We were quiet for about a minute, and after we had gone a few blocks or so, I asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she experienced a sudden "cold, evil fear" as we pulled into that driveway. She essentially felt the same thing at the same moment as I did. We neither saw nor heard nothing to prompt what we sensed. Nothing of that kind ever happened to me before or since, and I'm not in the habit of experiencing that level of creepiness. I wish now that I would have had the presence of mind to remember the street and house number if only to see if that experience would happen again --in the daytime--. No way would I ever go back at night or without more witnesses. I have a little pit in my stomach just remembering that night.
 
2019-10-31 8:14:03 AM  
14 votes:
Chalk me up to another person who wonders if people and animals re-incarnate.

We had a cockatiel named Robert, a recessive pearl who turned into standard grey, but he renamed himself Bobert. He had a very distinctive way of saying his name: Bob-BERT, Bob-BERT! He died in 2003 after eating drywall and destroying his kidneys. He was really good friends with another bird named Lydia, who turned out to be a male. Lydia pronounced his name Ly-DEE-a. And Bob-BERT picked up on that. Lydia died in 1999.

Fast forward to 2014. Both Lydia and Bobert are long dead and there are no other birds we had who knew them let alone pronounced their names.

I get a cockatiel, a grey pearl who turned into a standard grey. We decided to name him Ollie. Within a few months he started renaming himself Bob-BERT, Bob-BERT.

We thought that was freaky, but Ollie is close to Bob-BERT. So we noted it an moved on.

Then one day he said Ly-DEE-a, Ly-DEE-a. In the exact name way as Lydia said his name.
 
2019-10-31 12:30:56 AM  
14 votes:

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.
 
2019-10-30 3:23:39 PM  
14 votes:
Pass.
Too many wet blanket atheists in here to share my ghost or UFO tales again
 
2019-10-31 9:28:52 PM  
13 votes:
2005 was a bad year for me. Not sure if the worst so far, haven't really ranked them all yet, but it's certainly a contender. That was the year my inner child died, the year I became a full-time adult. It was all the result of a downward spiral that started with my marriage in 2003, followed by the loss of my job and becoming a father in 2004. Work was scarce and I started working about 30 hours a week as a freelancer, getting paid every two or three months. That was killing me. By the summer of 2005 I was homeless, jobless, and had lost one of my best friends in a car accident. Time had just stopped for me. Halted.

During that time days really did not matter to me. My wife was unemployed too and the weekends/weekdays lost all significance to us. I only took notice because my friends were still living in week intervals. Not too often I would go and share a beer with them. My friend was still single so his house was the place we assembled at in those occasions. It was a hot Friday and we were all drinking a lot, joking, laughing, saying all sort of stupid things. There was four of us that night. The beer was about to run out shortly after mid night and two of my friends volunteered to go out and get some more. Me and my friend stayed at the back of the house, drinking, singing songs. All of a sudden his expression became very serious, very stern. He looked sober. The stupid MP3 player ran out of battery five seconds later.

"How's your love life? How's your marriage?" He asked me, I swear he sounded like he had not drank a single beer that day. It was no secret my marriage was a trainwreck, even my not-so-close friends knew about it, but that was not the usual way we approached such matters, we used to go around in circles before talking serious, personal matters. I kinda felt a bit sober too, suddenly, not sure if it was because of the question, or the way my friend looked during that moment. And of course, we were now surrounded by silence. "It's ok, I guess." I told him, "Are you sure?" He asked me. "How is you relationship with your wife?" "It's getting better." I told him. And I wasn't lying. Two days back we had just received the eviction note. For me and my wife that was our first shiat-got-real moment (getting pregnant had not been that hard.) We didn't even fight over it. We talked, we made a plan, for the first time in more than a year we had agreed on something.

"Are you going to make it?" My friend asked. "What!?" I said. I was very confused at that point. "Are you going to make it? Can you make it on your own?" This question had a certain meaning because we, he and me, had similar backgrounds. We grew up as part of tight, close families but our parents were not ok with the way we wanted to live our lives, so we received little to no support from them and asking for their help was generally not an option. We did things on our own. "Yes, I can make it." I told him. With that I meant to say I was not getting divorced right away. "You'll be ok." He told me. He sounded sad and I was still unsure about what was happening.

Then he told me he was going to our home town the next weekend, a city 200 miles to the west. Asked me to go with him. I told him I could not go because I had to deal with leaving the house I was living in then. He was visiting his relatives and a girl she was romantically interested in. Then the other two friends arrived with more beer, they put the music back on, the party went on.

That was the las time I saw my friend.

A week later, he called me on the phone. It was Saturday night and he told me everything had gone wrong with his trip, got mad with his relatives, her date went bad too. He wanted to get back. He was drinking and I told him to stay put and get back on Sunday. He said he agreed with me, we made a few jokes regarding her date and then ended the call. And so began the strangest night of my life.

I was downstairs in the living room, watching a movie, having a drink. The kid was asleep in his room and my wife was watching TV in the master bedroom. It was about 10 PM, I went to the kitchen, got some ice and then filled my glass. I felt a chill when I put the bottle back in the table. I stood there a few seconds, then shook my head and went back to the couch. Took a sip off my drink, tried to clear my mind but then I realized I was fully alert, I stood up, turned around, "something's wrong here" I said out loud and the sound of my own voice scared me. I put the glass in the small table and went upstairs with a certain urgency. The kid was still asleep, everything ok in his room, then I went to the bedroom, my wife was also sound asleep, very unusual of her. She used to watch TV until 2 or 3 AM. I called her name and she didn't even flinch. I turned the TV and the bedside lamp off.

I went back downstairs. Picked up my drink and resumed watching the movie. I felt very uneasy, half a bottle of whiskey had done nothing to me. At mid night I decided to call it quits and turned the TV off. I went to the kitchen to leave my glass in the sink, as I went back into the dining room, that chill again. It made me stop there, started looking around. I couldn't shake the thought that something was wrong. Very wrong. I turned every light in the house, went looking all over the place for something, couldn't tell what, just trying to find what was so wrong. I thought that with the noise I was making while going from one end of the house to the other, opening and closing doors my wife and/or kid would eventually wake up, but they didn't. They remained fully asleep. After double checking every window and outgoing door, I turned out the lights and went upstairs, to the bathroom. There I found a copy of Dan Brown's "DaVinci's Code" (I know) I had received a couple of months back as a gift from a friend (I know) and well, I started reading it.

I went to bed, turned on my lamp and continued reading. I realized I could not sleep. Didn't even felt tired. An hour went by and I was becoming anxious again, to the point of repeating the doors/windows routine I had performed before. When I came back to the bed again, I tried to wake my wife up. But she wouldn't. That was also unusual of her. I turned the TV on but continued with my reading. It was 2:30 AM. Then I started to feel really bad, really scared. I was sure something was about to happen. Actually, I wanted something to happen, an earthquake, an explosion, whatever, I wanted that overwhelming fight/flight feeling to go away. I went downstairs, turned all the lights on again, and as I stood in the middle of the living room, that thought again. Something is wrong, something is very wrong here and I can't identify what it is, and I need to identify it, or something very bad is going to happen.

I went outside, walked to the parking lot, stood there, it was a warm summer night, clear sky, everything looked normal. I went back to the house, the VCR clock said 3:15, I sat on the dining table and stared at the wood grain for a long time. Slowly I felt the dreadful sensation going away. Slowly felt myself going back to my senses. "You missed it" I said out loud. I wasn't sure about what to think. I did not felt that urgency anymore, but felt guilty and kind of sad. I went upstairs, checked on the kid, my wife, made sure they were both breathing, went downstairs again, turned the TV on. I sat there until dawn.

That Sunday my wife had a party at her mom's, she wanted me to go with her, and I kinda wanted too, but I was feeling very tired. She asked me what was wrong? I asked her why she felt asleep so early and if she had heard me last night. She said she did not know, "I just felt like I was carrying something heavy" she said, "can't remember anything else." "I could not sleep." I told her. "I was feeling anxious and scared all the time." The expression in her face said that she thought I had drink too much. She left the house around 11 AM and I was in charge of cleaning the place up. I knew the routine, make sure everything was fine by the time she came back. I felt tired and down but even though I had a ton of reasons to be depressed, couldn't tell which one was keeping me down that morning.

The call came at about half past noon. It was my other best friend. He sounded scared too. "We need to talk." He said. "I just received a call, and I need you to help me. Where are you?" He asked. "At home." I told him. 'I'll pick you up in 10 minutes." I was finishing tying my shoes on when the doorbell rang. I rushed to open. My friend looked just like I felt. Without talking we went to the parking lot, got into his car, we took the way downtown. "Got a call" He said, "From one of my wife's coworkers." He struggled with every single word. I missed it, I thought. I missed it. Something did happen after all. "He said last night there was an accident, it was reported on the AM news, and the car looked just like our friend's car. He thinks it was him. I'm going to the morgue, to make sure."

"So that was it." I said. "What?" He asked me. "I couldn't sleep last night, I kept feeling something was happening, something bad, but I could not find out what." I told him. "What do you mean?" He asked, "It's him."  I said. "He's dead. Died early this morning."

We identified the body. He was driving too fast, they told us. Lost control while taking a curve, 6 miles from the city. He did not die instantly though, probably took him about half an hour. A truck driver reported the accident at 2:45 AM. When the help arrived he was gone, but missed him just barely.

Sometimes I like to think it was just an accident, but that last conversation we had... Was he saying goodbye to me? Did he sense his death? Did he plan it? And what exactly kept me awake that night?
 
2019-10-30 9:06:57 PM  
13 votes:
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.
 
2019-10-31 4:47:16 PM  
12 votes:

a particular individual: My beloved labradoodle, the Dude, died suddenly when he was only 7 years old. Cancer out of the blue. Three days after I had him euthanized, I dreamed that I was lying in my bed (as I was) and the Dude was lying where he always used to lie on the foot of the bed. Dude said he was sorry he had to go. I said "I guess this is the only way we can be together now." He said something to agree, and I sat there and petted him and went into another dream. Two nights later, he was back, and told me he had to go, and he loved me.

I don't believe in ghosts or an afterlife, but I had those dreams that were exactly like being awake.



I had something like that happen years ago. We had lost our little doggie unexpectedly, and a couple nights later I dreamed I was in the same room where she had passed, looking out the window. Despite being a multi-story house, there was only light above - no ceiling, etc. but the walls were there. She appeared in the spot where she died and came trotting over to me, wagging her tail. I said to her in joyful disbelief "You're okay!", giving her a scritch on the head. She looked at me and then trotted back to the spot where she died and disappeared. At this time the light above went away and the ceiling was back. I woke up, then went back to sleep feeling very peaceful.

I assume it was my brain trying to find a way to accept that she was gone. It was a nice dream, though, and makes me tear up even now.
 
2019-10-31 5:10:06 PM  
11 votes:
This is not a ghost story, nor is it "scary" in the traditional sense, but its something I experienced onetime that I couldn't explain, and have wondered for a long time whether it may have been supernatural/cryptozoological in nature. This story contains no jump scares or humanoid figures, but it illustrates one of my favorite subjects of the unexplained: that mankind is said to know more about the surface of distant planets than we do about the deep ocean. And the ocean can be weird as shiat!

In the summer of 2006 I was studying abroad in England. We had a few days off and decided to take a side trip to Amsterdam to do, uh, the things that American college students used to do in Amsterdam; this required an overnight ride on a massive cruise ferry called the Pride of Hull from Hull, England, to Rotterdam, Netherlands. It was a big, beautiful ship, as nice as a cruise ship with restaurants, bars, lounges, private staterooms, etc. There were over a thousand passengers and crew onboard, welt Hull in the late afternoon.

It was a beautiful summer evening, strangely warm for the North Sea but windy as hell: the sea was choppy and full of white-caps glowing greenish in the light of the setting Sun. My group holed up at the bar and ordered drinks, after one or two ales I excused myself to the outside deck to smoke a cigarette. Now - remember we were going TO Amsterdam, not FROM; I swear I was smoking nothing more than good old harmless Marlboro tobacco!

Anyways, I walked out onto the outer deck and that's when I saw one of the most bizarre things Ive ever seen. Off the Port side, about even with the ship there was a very heavy wake in the water - WITH NO VISIBLE SOURCE AT ALL! Yup: a classic Kelvin wake pattern just randomly kicked up in the middle of the sea!

I grew up in the Chesapeake region - I know how boats work, It looked like a large watercraft of some sort was underway a few hundred yards off our port: a large Chevron-shaped wave pattern moved abreast of us at roughly the same speed. It was even kicking up a vortex of bubbles behind it - but not a thing was visible at the vertex that could explain its existence.

Other people saw it too: I saw a few passengers point it out to others. Some officers were visible on the flying bridge with binoculars, looking at it, but they were too far away to get a good look at their faces to discern any concern or apprehension. One appeared to be talking into a cellphone or walkie-talkie.

I watched it for about ten minutes as it appeared to slow and fall back behind us, eventually disappearing on the horizon. The Officers upstairs never took their binoculars off of it. At no point was I ever concerned, just mesmerized: was it something under the surface? It was way too big and fast to be a whale. Some kind of submarine? It would be highly unprofessional and dangerous for a sub to get that close to a passenger ship with so many people on board. Was it some kind of natural phenomenon? A confluence of several waves? An underwater sea vent? To this day I have never seen or heard of anything that even remotely resembles what I saw.

The ocean holds more mysteries than I think we even realize.
 
2019-10-31 3:47:03 PM  
11 votes:
I was nineteen and my mother, after a long illness, decided to end it all.  She took an overdose, but unfortunately was discovered too soon.  Paramedics were called and managed to get her heart started, but she was brain dead.  Her heart continued to beat for five days in the ICU, while they did a couple of EEGs, proving she was brain dead.  We were waiting for her heart to stop on its own, since at that time, turning off the ventilator was a big deal.  I came home very late one night and saw a white mist pass through the house and disappear into a wall.  I knew then she was dead.  About two hours later, the phone rang.  I rang to answer it.  It was a nurse calling from the hospital to ask if we had made arrangements with a mortuary.  My father was on the phone, too.  He asked why and she said "Didn't the doctor call you?"  He said no.  There was a pause then she said my mother had died.  He hung up on her.  I stayed on and asked when.  She said it was about two hours ago -- about the time I saw the mist.
 
2019-10-31 1:40:38 PM  
10 votes:

Astorix: Squid_for_Brains: I'm a curious skeptic, and an atheist-with-benefits; I know that the natural world is far stranger than we realize, and also that I don't know everything.
That being said, I might as well be psychically deaf. I've lived in several spooky old houses, hung out in graveyards, been 3rd shift security for two museums housed on old grounds or in old buildings, been ghost hunting, and to this day I think I've accidentally been the cause of more ghost stories than the recipient.
Another example: I've been camping in the same woods with the same fool friends for 30 years. We're nice people, but we're...an acquired taste. And our annual camping date used to be around Halloween.
So, around 2015 my husband and I were giving motorcycle camping a try, up the ridge from the usual spot. We are completely alone in a deserted campground...nowhere near, I might add, the Northwest Coast. In fact, we're slightly south of Indianapolis. So imagine my surprise when an all-black suv (with blacked-out windows) roars up and steps right in front of us. An older couple get out, looking this way and that, and hand me this card:
[Fark user image 425x425]
They haven't even said hello. I'm pretty much speechless in mutual embarrassment, because after a moment of questioning, I discover that these south-of-Indianapolis Sasquatch sightings go back roughly 20 years, about the time my 6'4" idiot friend discovered Ghillie suits and insisted on wearing one every year:
[Fark user image 425x531]
I pulled up the photo and tried to explain, but their eyes glazed over, they turned around, got in their creepy suv, and roared off without saying goodbye.
Seriously, folks, I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yum here, but Bigfoot doesn't live south of Indianapolis. I apologize for my idiot friends and any confusion we might have caused.

This guy, however:
[Fark user image 425x566]

Catsquatch is out there. And if you don't fill up his mug with butt drugs, there's no telling what he might do.

💀

are you talking about Morgan County, such as Monrovia? The Sasquatch legends there abound. Whole posse of friends went hunting, they tried to get me to go, I said Uh UH. The woods behind my friends house was spooky as hell, with a lot of weird rituals going on back there. One of my friends came back and said there were bones of a dog there.

No flipping way did I ever tempt fate by exploring those woods with the strange noises eminating


Our fool asses were haunting Morgan-Monroe State Forest, specifically the Draper Cabin area. That's another haunted spot where absolutely nothing happens. That, and Stepp Cemetery up the road. The big frustration is that all the urban legends and TV shows are attracting arseholes and vandals.
I really don't want this (standing, with repairs, since the 1860s) to get burned down by some prick because the ghosts didn't haunt on demand:
Fark user imageView Full Size

You can go online and rent it for a weekend. The place is absolutely beautiful. But be good to it: it's special to a lot of folks.
 
2019-10-31 1:28:51 PM  
10 votes:

ObscureNameHere: SansNeural: Squid_for_Brains: Then the Ontario provincial bird swarmed us

That is one bad-ass bird.

I am still not clear on how a Loon 'swarmed' someone.    Whenever I've seen them, they are on a lake, usually no more than one or two at any given time.


It isn't a joke about mosquitoes?
 
2019-10-31 12:40:29 PM  
10 votes:
This is the closest I have to a real life haunted house story.

Disclaimer: I don't believe in haunted houses, ghosts, or super demons from outer space. I do, however, reserve some superstitions purely for the sake of my entertainment and nothing more. That said, I hope the following narrative doesn't paint me too much of a weirdo.

Years ago, a friend of mine had recently moved to a new home and asked that I helped move some boxes and furniture. To my understanding, the house was on the market for a long while (I didn't know the history of it because I was from out of state). He told me that there were some spooky rumors about the house that he couldn't wait to look into. And ugh, his social group gave him all the encouragement. They complained about all rickety floors, ugly windows, and dark corridors. If you ask me, it was a farking normal three bedroom house. The 'weighty, dark' vibe to it was because the house didn't catch much sun. The place was built on a janky slope down the valley, making 11 am feel like 5 pm. That's pretty much all the terror here.

Well, he's that one friend we all have that really hoped it was haunted, so he went a little overboard looking for the history of the place. He tore up and down checking what serial killers visited there or what kind of murders took place. Nothing--just an ordinary place on a terrible location. After about a week in, however, he finally found some luck.

There was a notebook in the attic. I know, classic, right? He passed it to me without a word and asked me to check it out. I opened it and read the first entry, which was about this woman who absolutely hated her husband. At first I was a little amused by the awkwardness of this sort of thing, but the topic of the matter and the entries didn't stop. From front to back, this entire notebook was filled with pure, written hatred. I understand that not a lot of people would find this haunting, but I'm the sensitive sort, and just reading one page of it made me a little queasy. None of the entries were dated, and it was difficult to see where she started and stopped. I couldn't tell you how old it was either, but If there ever was such thing as a cursed item, it would be that thing.

I don't know what he ever did with it, but every now and again, I bring up the 'hate book' to my wife to check if we're still cool.
 
2019-10-31 10:23:29 AM  
10 votes:

Wendigogo: God I miss that place.


Cool story. Any pics of this fabulous mansion?


Fark user imageView Full Size

I lived on the 3rd story - where the green dormers are. There was also a full attic and Silence of the Lambs style basement. I had access to the whole place. Being the only one there was creepy as hell.
 
2019-10-31 8:00:42 AM  
10 votes:
i have loads of ghost stories, many of them auditory and olfactory both.
Maybe my autism makes me more sensitive, I dunno.

Story 1.Decades ago, I was in college working on an art project. It was in the fall, late at night. Nobody else was there. I was with a friend, and we went upstairs to pick up the project and take it home because you don't want to leave anything out in the open, people steal art and supplies all the time.

So we get in the car that's parked outside the building. I try to start the car up, it didn't turn over. Tried again. It wouldn't turn over. Then a very strong smell of antique lilac filled the car, travelling left to right, then disappearing.
The car starts up, right as rain.

Story 2: the same friend and I went to his family real estate office. We went there to use the copy machines, we were printing zines. Again, it was very dark out, late at night, nobody else was around. While we were printing them, we both noticed the bathroom light was on. Strange, said my friend,
We both went back there to investigate. Suddenly a strong smell of old spice filled the air. It travelled out the door and disappeared.

I asked my friend "who wears old spice?" He said "the previous owner of the building wore it. He lived behind this office in the attached house, but he died in 1973."

We picked up our zine stuff and got the hell out of there.

Story 3, just this year. I had a cockatiel named Freddy. She was my sweet companion for 22 years. She declined and died on June 4th of multiple organ failure. 22 years in cockatiel years is like 117 years for a human. As she was declining, she emitted a very pungent smell thst I can't describe,  but it seemed to come from her digestive tract, not a fart but pungent like a fart.

I mourned her deeply. There is another cockatiel that lives in the cage where she died. In September, I was changing the paper in the cage when that very pungent smell wanted again, near the spot where she died and disappeared. I think it was Freddy saying hi.

Dear old girl, I still miss you.
 
2019-10-31 2:45:05 AM  
10 votes:

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


Nah, the wet blankets are the ones that move immediately to post about sleep paralysis instead of sharing that one time their flesh goosepimpled and they can't explain it and don't want to say how often they think back on it.

if you like this thread check out some of the early ones. we're still waiting to hear about the turkey feathers in snow, the updates on fishy, and if the road to Twentynine Palms is safe yet. This is probably not a bookmark, but call a priest if you feel the bookmark form shaping just over your shoulder
 
2019-11-01 3:17:06 PM  
9 votes:
Has anyone seen Turing_Machine?
He used to get these threads running and be the heart of it.
Many were his greenlights IIRC, and he used to give the top 5 smartest/scariest and the funniest a gift TF.
If he doesn't show up or the Mods offer, I'll be happy to step up this year. :)
My only requests are 1) bump the thread up for the weekend 2) someone help me with the tallying and let me know before the thread closes. Or just announce them in the thread and mention me.

Stay scared but also stay safe, Farkers.
 
2019-10-31 10:44:22 PM  
9 votes:
About 8 years ago my friends lived on a busy street just about in the heart of a big University campus here in Chicago (DePaul University, on Fullerton). They were going to be at a party the night scheduled for trick or treating and asked me if I wanted to hand out candy for them. I agreed. I showed up wearing this massive black monk's cloak with a cowl that completely covered my face. I borrowed some string and an 8-inch fake spider they had and strung it up over the sidewalk and ran the string to the railing on their porch and put a loop in it. the spider naturally hung about 5' off the ground and if I pulled on the string it was about 9' off the ground and partially hidden among the shadowy branches. I then sat on the porch, bowl of candy next to me, wine skin full of wine on the other side, with the loop on my finger and the spider pulled up. With the porch light above my head I looked like a dummy. I scared more than a few people coming up the steps. But, the best part of the evening was letting go of that string and having the spider drop down about 4 to 5 feet in front of people walking on the sidewalk. I got a lot of screams that night!

One of my favorites was a group of university students walking and one guy happened to see the spider from a ways off and he was mocking the spider, calling it fake, saying it would not scare anyone. And when he got close he stopped, looked right up and the spider and I dropped it. He screamed like Janet Leigh in Psycho and fell on his ass as he tried to backpedal away from it. Then his friends proceeded to mock him! Another was not when I managed to scare one young woman but when she came back a little later with her friend and behind her friend's back waved and got my attention and signaled me to drop the spider for her friend. Then there was the one little girl who screamed when I accidentally dropped the spider in front of her (I had planned on only scaring people who were clearly adults or at least older teenagers). She literally jumped backwards as she screamed. She then started laughing and said, "Again! Again!" And every time she screamed and then started laughing. After about 5 or 6 times her parents told her it was time to move along (after they came up the stairs for candy). We were both disappointed about that. But I did get her one more time as she went down the stairs. It was a great night. Sadly my friends moved away before the next Halloween rolled around else I would have done it again. It really was the perfect location for such a set up.
 
2019-10-31 7:27:12 PM  
9 votes:
Happy Halloween, Everyone!

Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2019-10-31 12:09:00 PM  
9 votes:
I tried to post this earlier, but it looks like the FARK ghost in the machine sacrificed it to Cthulhu.

I have two stories for the occasion, neither of which I tell particularly often for my own reasons.

1) Many years ago (like 20), I delivered pizza in Fairborn, Ohio. I had a delivery one night off Trebein Rd, which used to be pretty much a two lane country road running north/south on the east side of town. I think I was delivering to one of the new at the time apartment complexes they were tearing up good forest to build. As I turned north off Dayton-Yellow Springs, I saw a woman in what looked like a wedding dress walking south down the road. Mind you, this was around 7PM, and a bit after dusk, so this was odd to begin with. As I was early and the customer was a crappy tipper, I had to problem pulling off to find out what the fark was going on. (This was before cell phones became so prevalent, so at best, about all I could have reasonably done was run her back to the BP on Dayton-Yellow Springs, but...) Anyway, in the minute it took to get pulled over and get out of my POS Isuzu P/up, the lady vanished. I mean, no sign anywhere. Not in the ditch, the field, or the road. I get a bit creeped out, finish the delivery, and go back to the store. I told my manager about the incident, and a few days later, he handed me on of Chris Woodyard's Haunted Ohio books, which proved I wasn't the only one to have that unique experience.

2) Not spooky, per se, but one I keep in the back of my mind with the vision of the 16 gay bears singing "Lips Like Sugar" in 16 part harmony when I had DKA 10 years ago. At the time, I was living in Springfield, Mo, and working at the liquor store location that time forgot. Literally a shack that sat outside city limits to sell beer and whiskey to people going home to Republic or Battlefield, or getting liquid courage up before hitting either of the two adult emporiums out that way. The store was normally not very busy, so we had dispensation to read as long as we kept up on the side work. One particular night, I was busy reading some silly Sci-Fi novel involving idiots and gravity elevators until I wasn't. Instead, I found myself floating in a black vois surrounded by glowing blobby things that were mildly 80's florescent. They kept chanting weird New Age crap like "I am love and you are love and we are love..." like a bad "I am the Walrus" cover, until one said "Tell him he is loved" and I was suddenly back with my future teenagers trying to get to space. I had this distinct urge to call someone, with my brain swinging between my mom and a friend of mine. I ended up dialing my friend back in Ohio, who informed me his mom had died while I was at work. While I'd only met her once or twice, I was somewheat comforted she reached out to me, even with New Age Aquarian BS, to comfort her son.
 
2019-10-31 11:19:50 AM  
9 votes:
I'm a curious skeptic, and an atheist-with-benefits; I know that the natural world is far stranger than we realize, and also that I don't know everything.
That being said, I might as well be psychically deaf. I've lived in several spooky old houses, hung out in graveyards, been 3rd shift security for two museums housed on old grounds or in old buildings, been ghost hunting, and to this day I think I've accidentally been the cause of more ghost stories than the recipient.
Another example: I've been camping in the same woods with the same fool friends for 30 years. We're nice people, but we're...an acquired taste. And our annual camping date used to be around Halloween.
So, around 2015 my husband and I were giving motorcycle camping a try, up the ridge from the usual spot. We are completely alone in a deserted campground...nowhere near, I might add, the Northwest Coast. In fact, we're slightly south of Indianapolis. So imagine my surprise when an all-black suv (with blacked-out windows) roars up and steps right in front of us. An older couple get out, looking this way and that, and hand me this card:
Fark user imageView Full Size

They haven't even said hello. I'm pretty much speechless in mutual embarrassment, because after a moment of questioning, I discover that these south-of-Indianapolis Sasquatch sightings go back roughly 20 years, about the time my 6'4" idiot friend discovered Ghillie suits and insisted on wearing one every year:
Fark user imageView Full Size

I pulled up the photo and tried to explain, but their eyes glazed over, they turned around, got in their creepy suv, and roared off without saying goodbye.
Seriously, folks, I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yum here, but Bigfoot doesn't live south of Indianapolis. I apologize for my idiot friends and any confusion we might have caused.

This guy, however:
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Catsquatch is out there. And if you don't fill up his mug with butt drugs, there's no telling what he might do.

💀
 
2019-10-31 10:12:09 AM  
9 votes:

Jerseysteve22: What happened to the guy from Maine who went into the woods to investigate something weird? Is he still around? I forgot what year that story was from. 2012ish?


Never posted a follow-up as far as I know. Also, don't think that login showed up ever again in a thread.
 
2019-10-31 9:53:57 AM  
9 votes:
Not an actual ghost story, but fits the theme.  I grew up religious, and through a series of events, lost any faith, whatsoever.  This is the story of how my faith found me...  (I'm sorry, it is organized poorly, but I don't have time to fix it up now.)


Over Christmas, 1997, Mom should have died.  Marge and I got her to the hospital where, in a moment of lucidity, she asked me what was happening and I told her.  I said 'you're in a very bad way, and you can live or die, the choice is yours.'  Local hospital eventually got her put back together and she went home.  Over the next four years, she was in the hospital as much as she was out.  When in, either Dad or I was with her every moment, him during the days, me at night.  The night she died was the ONLY night I wasn't with her, I just couldn't do it that night.
In the summer of 2010, Marge, fearing the empty-nest thing, wanted a pocket book dog.  We went to a breeder and bought Bruno, a long haired, miniature dachshund in May.  In  July, Marge convinced me to go see a psychic in Philly that her sister knew/had seen.  We took a few extra days on the way, to stop in Gettysburg.  Let me tell you, long hair mini dachshunds are chick magnets.  Any time Bruno was out in public, the girls just flock to him.  On our way out of Gettysburg, we had to stop so he could pee, and as happens, two girls were drawn like a magnet.  One was a Natl Park Service employee, the other an intern from New Zealand.  We were talking, they were loving him, when all of a sudden, from nowhere, was a stick with a piece of chewing gum on it was in his mouth.  Neither the girls nor I knew where it came from, it just appeared.  I quickly took it from him and threw it away.
We get to M's sister's house and go to the psychic reading - it was called a gallery reading, there were about ten people besides us there.  Alicia <redacted> - the psychic - said she only deals with spirits that have passed over to heaven, she will not deal with Earth-bound spirits or with dark spirits, then she sat down and started to read.  She started with ' a little woman, older, whose name is " M   A   R - but it's not Margaret"  I said "Marguerite?", which was Mom's name.  That's it!!  Alicia began pointing her fingers, pulling them apart saying "sticky     ...  sucker   ...  sticky  ..."  I asked about the chewing gum stick Bruno had that morning, Alicia said ' your mom is jumping up and down, clapping, said "I did that, I gave your puppy a treat."
Alicia began describing her - she passed first, very reserved, comfy dresses with floral prints (she made her own clothes into the 1990's, usually bright floral prints), very sick - in and out of hospital, VERY close to me, Marge was often bothered by the bond between mom and I, she was closest to me and everyone knew it.  At this point, I  had to ask about my brother Joe, who had committed suicide in March, 2000.  Mom said "Hold your horses!!", which was absolutely her expression to slow down.  Alicia continued, "I needed to be alone to die, I couldn't pass looking into your eyes."  The night she died was the ONLY night I was not there.  Oh, she likes me without the beard.
At this point, dad stepped forward - "Hi, I'm Harold."  In his 80's, beautiful thick white hair.   He spit out his dentures - 'I'm done with the damn things.'  "I understand your sense of humor now."  He never 'got it' while alive.  Wish Sam a happy birthday.  ((Back to my narration - during the spring of that year, I had nine trees cut down on the side of our house.  Big, BIG poplars that I was afraid would fall into the house.  I spent the next few months cutting them into firewood.  Saturdays and Sundays, all day with my chain saw.  During this time, we, especially me, were seeing humming birds everywhere.  At one point, I had just cut about a 36" log and stood to give my back a break.  As I straightened up, I was nose to nose with a humming bird.  My chain saw was still running, and this humming bird was maybe six inches from my nose.  We looked at each other for 20 - 30 seconds before the bird flew away.))  Your dad says he's the hummingbird.  (( I continue to see hummingbirds all summer long, often nose to nose with me.))  "  I love you"  " I kiss you every day."  "You're different - I never understood you."
My brother Joe.  Not as tall as you, with a different body/build.  Don't look alike (Joe was adopted.)  Weird relationship with him, died quickly (gunshot wound to head).  "Thanks goodness Henry was there for mom when he passed", he caused lots of problems - "everytime he left it was like a tornado,".  ((joe;s relationship with the family was very tempestuous.))  "Me Mom and dad are getting along fine together."  "I'm not farked up in the head anymore."  ((Narration:  for at least two years before this reading, I would wake up at exactly 2AM.  Never 1:59 or 2:01, exactly 2AM.  It was so regular that I would comment each morning to Marge))  Alicia remarked ' he wakes you up at 2AM - I'll never leave you alone."  I said that I would prefer he not wake me at 2AM any more, and it has not happened, since.  ((However, now I wake at 4:20 every morning, I'm sure it's him, he had that kind of sense of humor.))
Finally, one of our grandmothers showed up and said I have to watch my flat feet / ankles.  When she visits, we will smell lilacs.  I've often mentioned to Marge, smelling lilacs in the basement while doing laundry.  Usually, this is when lilacs are not in bloom - fall, winter.  The thing of note here is she was with our dog, Dudley.  Dogs do go to heaven.  "Marge isn't open, Henry picks up on her."
 
2019-10-31 5:47:31 AM  
9 votes:
Almost forgot about this one..  Manga/comic..obvious fiction, but good..

The Enigma of Amigara Fault
 
2019-10-31 4:38:41 AM  
9 votes:

Keeve: 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?


I have, but the tree cover makes it impossible to see anything useful. The regular map view displays an accurate representation of the roads on both sides of the river and even includes the "island" in the middle of the river that has ancient footings in place for the long-gone bridge.

Have gone on numerous hikes along the river and well, it also seems strange to run across fiber trunks run under this river, in the middle of the woods.
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2019-10-30 5:27:25 PM  
9 votes:
My late FIL shows up often, he watches out for my son.
 
2019-11-01 1:14:18 AM  
8 votes:

Element65: Late to the thread and this story isn't that creepy, but I'm a scientist and an atheist so what do you expect? But it's a true story.

In my younger years I would occasionally have creepy intuitions that would come true. I mostly just chalked it up to my brain collecting data and figuring things out on some level below consciousness and then shoving the results up at me out of the blue. Because I was an atheist and wanted to be a scientist since I was like 5, and I didn't really believe in the supernatural. One incident really sticks out in my mind though as especially creepy.

I was in my early twenties, working the graveyard shift at the Walmart in my home town out in western Canada. It was the dead of night, some time between 3 and 5am. I'm unpacking stock and putting it on shelves, all alone in my section. Suddenly out of nowhere I'm overcome with this feeling of intense dread. Like the kind of feeling you would imagine you would get if some one close to you had died. It lingered for what felt like forever but was probably on the order of 30 to 60 seconds. What could I do about it? Nothing. It was the middle of the farking night. What was I going to do, start randomly calling my loved ones because of a feeling? So I shoved the fear aside and kept working. In the morning I went to campus and walked into the student center to get some breakfast before my first class. That was a very rough year btw. Working full time graveyard shifts and taking two science classes per semester. That's another story. The news was playing on the radio somewhere. I was strung out and tired and couldn't piece together what they were going on about at first. After listening for a while I finally wrapped my mind around the enormity of what they were saying and it blew my mind. It was the morning of September 11, 2001.


You know, I've never told anyone this story because I'm still a little creeped out about it. My paternal grandmother lived in Philadelphia and we used to spend weekends with her sometimes. She would walk me to a bakery called the Cookie Outlet for cookies and treats sometimes and I loved it! One night when I was a little kid in the '90s I had this bizarre dream: Grandmom and I were walking to the Cookie Outlet but it was New York City. I saw plane crashes all around me. Specifically, I saw the tail of an American Airlines in their old livery in the park we used to pass. Grandmom said this was a bad day and we needed to stay safe. The events of 9/11 happened when I was 15 and as we watched the news in school the dream came back to me. This is a subject I would never joke about. Never shared this story before and I don't know I ever will again.
 
2019-11-01 12:15:51 AM  
8 votes:
Late to the thread and this story isn't that creepy, but I'm a scientist and an atheist so what do you expect? But it's a true story.

In my younger years I would occasionally have creepy intuitions that would come true. I mostly just chalked it up to my brain collecting data and figuring things out on some level below consciousness and then shoving the results up at me out of the blue. Because I was an atheist and wanted to be a scientist since I was like 5, and I didn't really believe in the supernatural. One incident really sticks out in my mind though as especially creepy.

I was in my early twenties, working the graveyard shift at the Walmart in my home town out in western Canada. It was the dead of night, some time between 3 and 5am. I'm unpacking stock and putting it on shelves, all alone in my section. Suddenly out of nowhere I'm overcome with this feeling of intense dread. Like the kind of feeling you would imagine you would get if some one close to you had died. It lingered for what felt like forever but was probably on the order of 30 to 60 seconds. What could I do about it? Nothing. It was the middle of the farking night. What was I going to do, start randomly calling my loved ones because of a feeling? So I shoved the fear aside and kept working. In the morning I went to campus and walked into the student center to get some breakfast before my first class. That was a very rough year btw. Working full time graveyard shifts and taking two science classes per semester. That's another story. The news was playing on the radio somewhere. I was strung out and tired and couldn't piece together what they were going on about at first. After listening for a while I finally wrapped my mind around the enormity of what they were saying and it blew my mind. It was the morning of September 11, 2001.
 
2019-10-31 11:53:37 PM  
8 votes:
We were doing a night hike & geocaching in the Ocala National Forest in FL. It started out with a group of about 20 of us, but by 2-3 AM there were only 5 of us left, since the others went home. 

The moon was out, there was almost no wind & the white sand trails were pretty bright.  As we were heading down this narrow trail miles away from parking we noticed someone had been on the same trail barefoot.  We thought it was odd but it was FL, so the possibility of a barefoot redneck in the deep woods wasn't too far fetched.

As we were following our gps' & should've been paying more attention, suddenly we heard this deep huffing in front of us.  We all froze and everyone shone their flashlight forward, just in time to see a black bear emerge from the scrub palm & stop on the trail.

It huffed at us again and started forward.  We all started stumbling back with out taking our eyes off it, when the bear suddenly stopped. It looked like it was looking at something to the side of us when it turned  completely around & crashed through the brush.

We stood there shaking & listened to it getting further & further away.  I turned around to see if there was another bear or something behind us & there was nothing there.

We decided to head back and were all pretty jumpy.  We heard something off to the side of the trail past where our flashlights would reach & were freaked out even more. It seemed like whatever it was, was shadowing us, staying parallel & when we'd stop, so would it.

When we got to a dirt road we all started jogging faster & faster til it was almost a full out sprint.  We finally stopped & looked back & there was a large man like figure a ways back on the road behind us.

We scattered at that point & I ended up by myself, in the middle of the freaking woods, scared shiatless.  I stopped, pulled out another flashlight & a machete from my pack & tried to calm down to think.  I didn't want to go back to the road but didn't want to stay there either.

I had left a pin where my car was & it was still about 5 miles away.  Headed towards the car & saw I'd come across a trail so figured I at least wasn't lost. Kept feeling like something was watching me but didn't hear or see anything else.

Made it to the trail & could see some lights coming up it.  Two other members of the group, were jogging towards me & didn't want to stop.  We kept going  and came across some other creepy shiat but nothing as bad as what had already happened.

Stayed in the lot until the other couple got there & then we all got the fark out of there & I haven't been back since.  Not sure what we saw, don't know, don't care just know it scared the crap out of all of us.
 
2019-10-31 10:52:49 PM  
8 votes:
In the early 80s, I ran a homeless shelter. Many homeless people are homeless because they have alcohol, drug, or mental problems (sometimes combinations of these).

Once, I had a guy committed to the mental hospital against his will. He was making a lot of threats to people's lives, so he was committed for being a threat to others.

A few hours later, I got a call from the hospital that he had escaped. I was surprised and told them so, because they usually can't say anything about current or former patients. They pointed out that there are exceptions, and I said the aren't many. They then reminded me of the exception where they can warn somebody whose life they think is in danger. Um.

The next call was from the police. He'd been see  about a mile from the homeless shelter, walking in our direction and carrying a large axe.

A little later, the doorbell rang and I went downstairs to check who it was (always kept light off inside and on outside so I could see but they couldn't).

The was a face pressed up against the window. I couldn't see details because it was distorted, but the hair color was  right, so I dropped to the floor and started making my way to a phone. This caused gales of laughter on the other side of the door and the guy stepped back and I recognized him as a friend of my brother (who was also there).

I told them what was going on, and they stayed with me until the cops called to let me know they caught the escapee a few blocks away, and he didn't have an axe when they caught him.

We found an axe in the back yard the next morning.
 
2019-10-31 5:09:45 PM  
8 votes:
So, I'm a skeptic but here's a run down of thing I can explain, all from one place.

Late 80's-90's, my mom was plant nurse at Baker Furniture in Grand Rapids. This also meant she was HR, secretary or whatever the boss wanted. He was generous in that she could work all the OT she wanted but her being a single mom, that meant a lot of times I was there with her at night. It was cool for me because I got 5 floors of factory to run wild in. Most the time it was just skateboarding around the place (you can find some CRAZY lines in a place like that). Anyway... the first one I remember. I was in the "planing" room. Swore I could hear someone walking on the next level (old, wood floors). Sat there for a few and went back to doing my thing. Next thing I know, it sounds like a steamroller going across the floor above me. Made the lights shake and all. I ran up front and tell my mom who looks at the security system and says "the alarms are on, nothing set off motion sensors, doors never opened, you're dreaming. We ended up walking up there and nothing of note out of place.
2nd time. We were actually on our way out. She got the alarm set and as we walked to the door, it let out the alarm for "door open". She checked it and it was the break room which was pretty much the center of the factory. She checks the controls and it shows the door as closed. We go through the same process and the same thing happens, only the door on the opposite side of the break room. She gets annoyed and we head up there to check doors. Get in the old service elevator and half-way up, it stops with a "door open" warning. Obviously, it's not. We're looking at it. About 30 seconds later, warning light goes off and we can move again. We finally get up there and find both doors are closed but the sink faucet is running full blast. Went back down and tried to leave... "door open" alarm at the 1st break room door again. We had to go back 5x before the alarm finally set and we left. Never an open door and it kept changing between the two.
Last, on the planet floor again, started seeing "smoke" at the south end of the building and it smelled BAD! Like burning shiat. Run up and tell mom again. She freaks a little this time because it wouldn't be the first really old furniture factory to burn down. She checks the alarms, no fire. We walk out onto the floor and she says "we gotta figure out where it is, I smell it too".
We checked EVERYWHERE but the only place you could really smell smoke was in that one area. The area in question was the old boiler/incinerator for the plant. At that point it had been decommissioned for probably 25 yrs but if you went in that room, your eyes burned the air was so thick. I always thought it was a cool room so I'd spent a ton of time there. Never experienced anything like it before or after.

/ I know... CSB.
 
2019-10-31 4:25:51 PM  
8 votes:
This is completely true.

When the chairman of the department at one of the grad schools I went to moved to take the job he bought a house where some family members had been murdered. He even joked about what great deal he got on the house because if the murders. He also said that there was blood on the carpet when he first saw the place. It was a nice big house in a nice neighborhood (for that craphole town). It also had a swimming pool, but the backyard was basically facing an interstate.

Anyway, there were no ghosts or unexplained noises. But a couple of years after I was done with school there was a big car crash on the interstate almost directly behind his house. A couple of people were killed in the crash. They were members of the family that had been murdered in the house.
 
2019-10-31 3:34:00 PM  
8 votes:
Thirty-five years on, and this one still bothers me... but, here goes.

When I was in my teens, I learned how to read Tarot cards. I had a Wiccan friend who taught me, and I picked up on it fairly well - had my own Rider deck that I kept under my pillow as I slept (to keep a connection with the cards). Anyhow, one night, I was in a bad headspace, as 15-year-olds can be, and I broke the one rule that my friend explained to me as a cardinal rule of the Tarot - never read for yourself.

Well, I did, and it wasn't a good reading. I don't recall the details of the reading at this point, and considering, it's probably for the best. Anyhow, after I finished with the cards, I wrapped them in the cloth that I kept them in, and put them back under my pillow. Then, I gave my girlfriend a call. The last time I remember looking at the clock beside my bed, it read 1:15am.

The next thing I knew, I was standing, looking out of my bedroom window, and the clock read 6:30am. The phone was no longer in my room. And the Tarot was gone from under my pillow.

I don't know what the hell happened in those missing five hours, and to be honest, I don't want to. But I have never so much as touched a Tarot deck since.
 
2019-10-31 11:47:05 AM  
8 votes:

Honest Geologist: No actual spooky stories from me this year. But I will post a few photos of a job I was on this summer. We were going around investigating abandoned mine sites in northern Ontario in preparation for investigations and cleanups if necessary. Nothing supernatural beyond the incredibly creepy feeling you get knowing that you're standing above hundreds of metres of subterranean tunnels, or on top of a capped mine shaft, or a few feet away from an OPEN mine shaft in the middle of the woods, and that you drove an hour on gravel logging roads to get here and no one will find you if you disappear...

[Fark user image 850x637]

[Fark user image 850x637]

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That *is* actually scary.  Even more so because it is demonstrably *real*.

In many cases the potential, long-term social and economic cost far outstrips the profits some individuals made up to the point where they gave up, dropped their tools and walked away... leaving the final costs to be paid by others in health, lives and taxes.
 
2019-10-31 10:54:50 AM  
8 votes:

ObscureNameHere: Jerseysteve22: What happened to the guy from Maine who went into the woods to investigate something weird? Is he still around? I forgot what year that story was from. 2012ish?

Never posted a follow-up as far as I know. Also, don't think that login showed up ever again in a thread.


Well, it was either true and something bad happened, or he was damn committed to the act, excellent story either way:

https://www.fark.com/comments/7408886​/​80387820#c80387820

Username was Tharkin, had been around five years before that story.
 
2019-10-31 10:50:49 AM  
8 votes:
I'm a 'non-believer' but do admit that weird things happen now and then (how one *proves* what the weird things are can be a discussion for another day).   There are three examples of stuff from my family, two fall into the 'precognition' category and not 'ghost stories' per se., the other is, well, not sure.

1)   My Dad was driving up our long driveway (lived in a rural area) and my older brother looked out of the picture window and said "Dad brought Kentucky Fried Chicken!".    I remember being really excited about this and wondering how my brother knew.  Now, this is the late 70's, so my Dad would not have called home to say he was doing this.  And, the KFC bag was kept on the floor of the passenger side of the car, so there is absolutely no way my brother could have seen it.

2) This one is very distinct.   Now it is the early 80's, so I am maybe 12-14 when this happened.   I remember that I was having a dream about something, but then the dream was DISTINCTLY and suddenly interrupted with an image blast.  Almost a cerebral "We interrupt this program" moment.   Imagine watching a cartoon in low-res and then it suddenly cuts over to a high-res real life photo.  The image sort of looked like the end of our driveway, but there were lights at weird angles and sort of misty.   So, the image snapped me awake and I sat up in bed, kinda pissed off that my sleep was disrupted.   I then heard sounds from downstairs that were my mom and dad talking.   So I waddled downstairs to find out what was what.   My mom was on the phone while my dad was pulling on his coat and going out the front door.   I looked out the picture window..... and saw at the end of our driveway a car flipped up on its side across the road, headlights still on, on a misty night.

3) Keep this short:  for a period of time (told to me MANY years later), my Dad acquired -- in his early 30's apparently -- an ability to see 'auras'.   He worked in corrections, and he started being able to predict intentions of the inmates based on a 'glow' he could see around them.   He apparently (and perhaps obviously) never told anyone about it at work.   Eventually, according to him, his Christian beliefs seemed to have guilted him out of the ability to see the auras.
 
2019-10-31 10:08:17 AM  
8 votes:
What happened to the guy from Maine who went into the woods to investigate something weird? Is he still around? I forgot what year that story was from. 2012ish?
 
2019-10-31 10:07:00 AM  
8 votes:
A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.

This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn't make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."
 
2019-10-31 8:08:22 AM  
8 votes:

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


I've said it before and I'll say it again - Fark needs a UFO story thread just like the spooky story thread.

Let Farkers tell their stories and let us all decide for ourselves. Just like with the spooky story thread, whether the tales are real or not, they would still be intriguing and entertaining.
 
2019-10-31 2:22:06 AM  
8 votes:
My house is haunted.  I'm not trolling or writing fiction... It really is haunted, as far as I'm concerned.

My wife and I moved in about three years ago.  A nice 3 bed, 2 bath in the suburbs of Chicago.  Big 1/2 acre yard.  Quiet street.  The house was sold by the previous owner's estate...a sweet old lady who died.  I met her two of her children (probably around fifty years old if I had to guess at the closing).  The guy even gave me cell number to call if we had any problems.

Nice family.  Nice house.

Everything was great until the first night.  There was something wrong with the master bedroom.  It's hard to explain, but I just felt...bad... In that room.  If you were ever a bad student and you knew your report card was mailed home, but you didn't know when it would show up... That feeling of dread in the back of your mind.  It was like that.

I couldn't sleep.  I would wake up in the middle of the night.  I had bad dreams.  Sometimes I thought I heard noises, and I would get up and look out the windows, but there was never anything there.

I'm not religious. I don't believe in aliens.  I didn't believe in ghosts... But I wondered... Did the lady die in this room?  Was her spirit keeping me up?  It was just so weird.

Sometimes I would sleep in the couch.  No problems in the living room.  Just the master bedroom.  As silly as it sounds, I hated living in the house.

Here is the thing I forgot to mention, my backyard has a 10 foot easement, followed by another 10 feet on the other side of the property.  That twenty feet is all trees and bushes, like a tiny forest... the entire length of the property.

After those 20 feet of trees, there is a parking lot.  It's actually a local energy company.  You can't see it at all, you can't hear it... Or can you?

As it turns out, I have much better hearing than my wife.  She did not feel the presence of the old lady, and the master bedroom is the room nearest this building... And it had the worst windows.

Barely audible sounds were f***ing with my mind.

Got new windows last year, never had a problem since.  Or... Maybe... The old lady's soul was put to rest because she finally got new windows for her bedroom......

You be the judge.
 
2019-11-01 12:24:12 AM  
7 votes:
The night my father died in a car accident and before anyone knew he passed away his old stereo in the living room turned on by itself and played the eagles or maybe it was dire straights. I can't remember. We shut it off but it came back on and starting playing radio static so she unplugged it. Then the phone rang and rang but nobody was on the line. The following week we stayed at my grandmas and my mom had a priest exorcise the house no joke.
 
2019-10-31 10:07:50 PM  
7 votes:
I live in a house built in 1795. Five times I have had an experience. I'm walking through a front room and it happens. It is part breeze and part shadow. I walk into it or it walks into me. And for a brief moment I'm filled with a strange joy. I've lived in this house all my life and it is great.
 
2019-10-31 7:27:31 PM  
7 votes:

Tharkin: Today at work I got a Facebook message from a name I didn't recognize. It read simply " Were you Tharkin on Fark?" Well yes, I was, and still am I guess though I probably haven't posted in most of a decade. That feeling of "oh no, what did I do?" was probably the spookiest thing that's happened to me today (so far!)

Turns out she was following up on a story I posted in this very thread like 7 or 8 years ago. Pretty cool!  I'm about to take the kids out for trick or treat, but I'll check in later to read up on everyone's spooky stories this year.


So you unintentionally created a fark Halloween thread legend...

/much respect
 
2019-10-31 6:38:28 PM  
7 votes:
Coming from an atheist

Setting:  Like '96-'97 in a suburb of Dayton Ohio.  Age 16-17 I was driving the future Mrs. Joe home at about 2 in the morning in my Plymouth Reliant (bench seats in the front of a car....SPOOKY). We were driving in a residential housing unit with large plots of land and spaced out house.  No street lights the only real illumination was the lights from my car.

We saw a young woman, maybe late teens early twenties strolling slowly in the middle of the road..  She had on a long flowing white dress with frills.  Her face was white, like Kabuki theater ivory white.  She stopped moving when the headlights hid her.  I stopped the car about 15 feet away. She turned around and faced the car. Now when i say i saw her, i don't mean out of the corner of my eye, or she was in any why insubstantial.  Me and the future wife both clearly saw her, and looked at each other in confusion. Mrs. Joe got scared and said "Lets go NOW".  So i drove around her.

My guess was a bored teenage girl who was out messing with people, but we did not stop to find out.
 
2019-10-31 2:15:55 PM  
7 votes:
I have to recycle because creepy stuff doesn't happen to me much. Which is disappointing, because I love creepy stuff.

TL;DR: Pareidolia
___________________________________

Every year I wish something creepy would happen to me so I could contribute to this thread, but I haven't had much luck so far. The closest I can come is this:

One November evening a few years ago, I arrived home from work before my husband, as usual. Our place is on three acres in a rural area with dirt roads and cows and whatnot. No streetlights, either, so it's good and dark out there. Our entire three acres is fenced and we keep the gate locked.

As is my custom when I get home, I lock the gate behind me, park the car, grab a flashlight, and head out to feed the geese and change their water before I go inside. That done, I walk back toward the house but suddenly remember that I'm still carrying the cup we use to scoop up the goose food with, so I turn around to head back to the storage building where the cup lives.

And I see, maybe 20 feet from me and out of range of the outside light of the house, a man walking just beyond our dirt driveway, headed toward the gate. Because it's dark I can't really see his face, but I can tell that he's wearing jeans and an old denim jacket. I get the impression that he is on the younger side of life - maybe in his early 30s - and has sandy blond or light-brown hair. His right hand is in the pocket of his jeans and he has his head down like he's looking at the ground.

There is no way anyone other than my tenant and me should be on the property - and my tenant is an older fellow who uses a walker. It's not him. I lose sight of him as he disappears behind the storage building.

By then I've recovered from my initial surprise, so I turn the flashlight back on and head toward the gate to find out who he is, what the hell he's doing on my property, and how he got in. But there's no one there at all and on one on the road to our house.

Puzzling over all this, a few things occur to me:
- The man was walking not on our driveway, but just past it, in the desert - in the dark. The area is thick with cactus and other stickery things and the ground is really uneven.
- I didn't hear any footsteps as he was walking.
- Our dogs, who were hanging around with me, didn't bark or appear to even notice the man. They would normally go nuts if a stranger were on our property.

I have to assume this was a case of pareidolia. The realism was startling, though, and I can see why people end up being convinced they've seen ghosts. You can't always believe what your brain is telling you you're seeing.
 
2019-10-31 11:25:22 AM  
7 votes:

ObscureNameHere: I'm a 'non-believer' but do admit that weird things happen now and then (how one *proves* what the weird things are can be a discussion for another day).   There are three examples of stuff from my family, two fall into the 'precognition' category and not 'ghost stories' per se., the other is, well, not sure.

1)   My Dad was driving up our long driveway (lived in a rural area) and my older brother looked out of the picture window and said "Dad brought Kentucky Fried Chicken!".    I remember being really excited about this and wondering how my brother knew.  Now, this is the late 70's, so my Dad would not have called home to say he was doing this.  And, the KFC bag was kept on the floor of the passenger side of the car, so there is absolutely no way my brother could have seen it.


Reminds me of me when I was young, around 10-12. I would be in the living room just drawing, or watching TV and all the sudden I would look over at the phone and say "The phone is going to ring" and it would ring. Also I was good at the carnival games where you would put a quarter down on what color or number you think the spinning wheel would land on. I always would win those first try. Won a lot of stuffed animals and stretched soda bottles with colored water in them. When I hit puberty I slowly lost those "guessing/knowing" abilities. Noticed at 13 I couldn't predict when the phone would ring anymore, and I didn't always win the carnival guessing games, just sometimes.  Had to spend like 5 quarters instead of just one. By the time I was 14 all the powers were gone. Too bad. I never got a chance to try and win the lottery. They didn't have it back then in VA.

I still am what you would call a "sensitive" I guess. When I walk into a haunted place I feel something like electricity, sometimes it stops me in my place it's so strong. Back in 2005 I was walking down the sidewalk past this place "The Angel Inn" in Niagara-by-the-Lake Ontario once. Had no clue about its history or anything about it. i wasn't even looking up. Was looking at the ground. All the sudden I feel this jolt of electricity that stops me in my tracks. I look up and see this:
Fark user imageView Full Size

A cheerful, yellow house with angels on it. I thought "This can't be haunted. It's got angels on it for Christ's sake." I continued on. After getting home to VA I was on Newsgroups (remember them) and downloaded a season of ghost shows (took forever and bad quality to boot) called "The Girly Ghosthunters". Canadian all-girl ghost hunting team. One of the episodes was at The Angel Inn. I was like "WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?" Turns out its one of the most haunted places in Canada.

You can watch the episode here where they explore it:
https://youtu.be/wtdIIDlfvg4
 
2019-10-31 11:04:53 AM  
7 votes:

hiredgoonz: ObscureNameHere: Jerseysteve22: What happened to the guy from Maine who went into the woods to investigate something weird? Is he still around? I forgot what year that story was from. 2012ish?

Never posted a follow-up as far as I know. Also, don't think that login showed up ever again in a thread.

Well, it was either true and something bad happened, or he was damn committed to the act, excellent story either way:

https://www.fark.com/comments/7408886/​80387820#c80387820

Username was Tharkin, had been around five years before that story.


For some reason I seem to recall from a previous year's thread that he had posted comments in other, unrelated threads after the turkeyfeathers incident. I have not investigated personally.

Not sure which is more worrying, that he never came back or that he came back and never spoke again of what happened.
 
2019-10-31 8:53:41 AM  
7 votes:
Another weird reincarnation story. My ex sister in law, when she was a little girl, around 4, used to describe in detail houses and events that nobody else in the family ever heard.

Her mother asked her "when did you do (or hear this)

She said "when I was a boy."

They laughed and made fun of her until she closed her mind off to it.

I wonder if when we are little kids we know more but learn to close our minds off to it. Just a thought.
 
2019-10-31 8:37:54 AM  
7 votes:
 
2019-10-31 4:42:08 AM  
7 votes:

Keeve: 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?


On the other side of the river, same fiber line, actually called AT&T about this to try and figure out what was up...they didn't know, but were very concerned about why I wanted to know...

Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2019-10-31 12:54:49 AM  
7 votes:

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?
 
2019-11-01 12:46:50 AM  
6 votes:
I just finished watching some creepy Halloween movies. Now that the TV is off I noticed there are children's hand prints on the screen. There has not been a child in this house in over 5 years. The TV is less than a year old....
I tried to snap a pic, but I cant get the camera to pick up the greasy hand prints on the black glass
 
2019-10-31 7:57:18 PM  
6 votes:
This one isn't a ghost story, but a Mandela event. I recently attended an alumnae reunion weekend at the college I attended thirty years ago. One of the weekend's events was scheduled for a lecture hall in a building no one had heard of, not even the recent graduates. We all assumed it must be new construction and had to google a campus map to find it. It was one of the main buildings in the academic quad, right across from the library. It was one of the original campus buildings. It still had it's original name. Yet more than thirty years of alums, including several who had given campus tours for a job, had never been inside it and had no idea it was there. I have a memory of a building in that spot, but not that one.
 
2019-10-31 6:04:39 PM  
6 votes:

Xcott: His wife sort of lost her marbles taking care of him, and she began this strange habit of staring into the mirror over the mantelpiece for hours on end, sometimes smiling or grimacing at it, sometimes launching into creepy conversations with it.


I have an modest addendum to this:  that wonderfully creepy fireplace has a 100-year-old coal-burning insert, all cast iron and infernal as the dickens, and I finally managed to remove an iron panel that will let a chimney sweep clean the flue for the first time since we bought the house.

Removing 100-year-old screws and nuts, rusted and covered with soot and creosote, from inside a fireplace insert.  Nuts I could not see, and could barely even reach (this is Fark, I'm sure lots of people will sympathize.)  That sucked, but I managed after about a week of struggling with different ideas.  Now I'm sitting back with a glass of Tullamore that I totally farking earned.

And just now, waiting in the parlor to give out candy, I realize just how many insanely creepy noises that thing makes when the flue is open.  I was just sitting on the stairs by the mantle to use a nearby outlet, but I had to go somewhere else because it unnerved me how much it sounded like something moaning or rattling just upstairs.

Hold on,
 
2019-10-31 5:04:04 PM  
6 votes:

Tharkin: Today at work I got a Facebook message from a name I didn't recognize. It read simply " Were you Tharkin on Fark?" Well yes, I was, and still am I guess though I probably haven't posted in most of a decade. That feeling of "oh no, what did I do?" was probably the spookiest thing that's happened to me today (so far!)

Turns out she was following up on a story I posted in this very thread like 7 or 8 years ago. Pretty cool!  I'm about to take the kids out for trick or treat, but I'll check in later to read up on everyone's spooky stories this year.


Hey! I actually got worried about you after your Halloween story. You said you were going back the next day, and that was it. I even posted a thread asking after you.

Your story reminded me a lot of Stephen King, especially Dream Catcher. Which was a terrible book. But your story creeped me the fark out.
 
2019-10-31 4:11:47 PM  
6 votes:
Same place as the story from above.

On the first floor of that place was a beautiful old 8x10 black and white picture of the house in an ornate old wooden frame. There was a light snow blanketing the house and surrounding bare trees. The picture was taken at night, but there was enough light to take the picture because every light in the house was on. There was also a pre-teen young lady pulling back the window sash and peering out the front dormer window (see pic above).

My friend researched the house and found this story:

At the start of walking his dog, a neighbor noticed some lights in the house were on. upon his return home, he noticed that all the lights in the house were on, as well as all the external lights. He knew the family that owned the home was away on vacation and decided to call the police. It had snowed lightly that day and there was a light coating of snow blanketing everything - roofs, trees, grass, driveways, etc. A policeman came and inspected that area. There were no signs of forced entry or broken windows and further, no tracks of any kind in or out of the house in the snow.

The house, with all the lights on, and the house and grounds being blanketed in snow looked fantastic and the neighbor decided to take a picture for the owners. Later, when the film was developed, he noticed the girl in the window pulling the sash back and peering out. When he showed the owners, the gasped and said the girl looked just like their daughter who'd died of sickness the year before.

I lived there for a couple of years and there were a few times when I came home to find every light, both inside and outside, on.
 
2019-10-31 2:23:44 PM  
6 votes:

Walker: Jerseysteve22: If anyone is in Newport RI, stay in the Francis Malbone House BnB. That place is definitely haunted! Walked around one night after hours taking photos and video. Weird stuff started happening: Walked through a cold spot, started hearing weird stuff along the walls, tapping footsteps behind me, ran back to my room and the door handle jiggled but without someone on the other side of the door. Definitely creepy!

Newport, RI. That reminds me of the pic I took in an old churchyard cemetery I was walking thru there.

What's that peeking over the headstone?
[Fark user image 720x960]

Creepy translucent green thing with a white eye and red unhappy lips
[Fark user image 749x609]
Pareidolia (seeing faces where they are none?) Probably, but what is it?

I took the picture back in 2012 with my digital camera with a tiny screen, so I didn't notice it until I got home and saw it on my big computer monitor.


I'd go with 'moss' on the side of the above ground tomb in the background of the pic.

However, I thought you'd be highlighting the obvious 'orb' at the top, slightly left and behind, of the foreground tombstone.
 
2019-10-31 1:25:39 PM  
6 votes:
Alright, it's slowed down some here at work, so I can tell you about the second time a ghost touched/hurt me.

"Show me on the doll where the bad ghost touched you"

But seriously, this experience was the most painful one, and stayed with me for days.

So I'm posting these in chronological order, because I kind of have OCD and have to do it that way. The first time a ghost touched me was at The Round House in Fremantle, Australia. March 2001. This second time was in Cartagena, Colombia. This happened on December 7, 2010. I know the exact date because I looked in the Facebook album I made so I could grab some pics to post here, but the ones I found on Google images are better, so I'll mostly use those.

I was in Cartagena because I was on a cruise visiting South America and Central America. As it was my first time visiting Cartagena or Colombia, I took a ship's organized tour to see all the "must-see" things in Cartagena. One of the stops was this impressive place, Castillo San Felipe de Barajas.
Fark user imageView Full Size

Fark user imageView Full Size

Info from various websites about it: The castle is located on the Hill of San Lázaro in a strategic location, dominating approaches to the city by land or sea. It was built by the Spanish during the colonial era. Construction began in the year 1536, and it was originally known as the Castillo de San Lázaro, It was expanded in 1657. The colonial-era castle will forever be known as the most impregnable fortress ever built by the Spanish in the Americas. The unconquerable one, the one that could never be breached. The Chuck Norris of fortresses, one might say (no relation). Although I see on Wikpedia that in the 1697 raid on Cartagena, during the War of the Grand Alliance, the castle fell to the French privateer Baron de Pointis.


The British couldn't take it. They tried, in 1741, with 23,000 of their mightiest and bravest soldiers, and 200 of their best ships. And still they hit a brick wall. Literally and figuratively speaking. Lord Edward Vernon's attack on Castillo San Felipe is perhaps the most famous attack on the fortress, in what became known as the Battle of Cartagena de Indias. This was one of Britain's most catastrophic losses, and an especially embarrassing one, as the fort was held by merely half a dozen ships and 3,000 Spanish troops, who managed to hold their ground for a whole month before the Brits retreated.

So anyway, my experience happened in the underground tunnels. Quite spooky things.
Fark user imageView Full Size

Fark user imageView Full Size

Pic I took:
Fark user imageView Full Size

Our tour guide said the Spanish used to stand at the sides, down the side tunnels, and when a tall gringo tried to walk by they would stab them in the sides with their bayonets and they never saw it coming. So I'm a tall gringo....can you see where this is going? I was walking along thru the tunnels minding my own business, taking pics, when from a side tunnel on the left, right as I walk by, I get a very sharp pain on my left side just above my belt. I'm not an anatomy expert, but I guess it would be the left kidney area? It really felt like I was stabbed by a ghost bayonet. That pain stayed with me days and it hurt a lot. I had never felt pain in that area before or since, so no idea what it was, but I think it's more than a confidence that it happened right where the tour guide said the Spanish defenders of the fort used to stab tall white guy invaders in the side with bayonets.
 
2019-10-31 12:25:43 AM  
6 votes:

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.
 
2019-11-01 10:05:09 AM  
5 votes:

Dick Hammer: people do hate me irrationally on sight and they make no secret of it (the honest ones are all too happy to scream it at me explicitly) but that could be just because I'm not pretty.


At least here at Fark you seem to come on like a bad song - with an abrasive lead (username) topped by unpleasant lyrics (what you say).

So I detect some circumstance of chicken/egg paradox:  Do you act ugly because people treat you ugly or do people treat you ugly because you act ugly?
 
2019-10-31 10:57:14 PM  
5 votes:
I was very close with my aunt. She babysat me a lot when I was growing up and we got along so well. When she got sick for the last time, she made the rounds in the family and stayed with each of us for a few weeks. When she lived with me those few weeks she told me, half joking, that if she could she'd haunt me. I told her to feel free to drop in and make her presence known and she was always welcome... not believing at all in that sort of thing. Another thing she made me do during her visits is watch her daily soap opera (the Young abs the Restless? I forget) on Soap Network (obviously this was awhile ago) after I came home from work as she slept through the morning airing and she knew I farking hated every second of that useless show but knew I'd sit with her anyway.

Anyhow, she passed in her sleep in February of 2012. It was so difficult not having her around on my wedding day in April of that year. My husband didn't know her well, and I really think they would've been friends. I still miss her.

But I digress. A few months after her death, I was watching tv with my husband and we were flipping channels and came across her soap. I went off on a story about how I hated watching that with Shelly, and she thought it was hilarious to make me suffer through it every night. I then mentioned how she said she'd haunt me if she could. My husband had tucked one of those small flags that are glued to sticks that are about 6 inches long behind a framed photo hung above our tv. Just as I finished with my comment about haunting that flag popped straight up and fell right behind the tv. There's no physical way that could've happened and that flag hadn't budged since he stuck it there. We sat there in stunned silence looked at each other. I asked "Did that really just happen?"

Since that day, I've never spoken ill of soap operas since I'm pretty sure she's listening.
 
2019-10-31 9:51:04 PM  
5 votes:

Astorix: Another weird reincarnation story. My ex sister in law, when she was a little girl, around 4, used to describe in detail houses and events that nobody else in the family ever heard.

Her mother asked her "when did you do (or hear this)

She said "when I was a boy."

They laughed and made fun of her until she closed her mind off to it.

I wonder if when we are little kids we know more but learn to close our minds off to it. Just a thought.


My daughter is three, and very loquacious. (Go figure)
The other day she looks at my wife and says "I don't like it when the bad baby follows me. Because it's a sneaky baby and a bad baby."
0_o

/We live in an apartment complex that's the definition of boring architecture
//also live near plenty of infrasound sources
///and in the SeaTac flight path... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
 
2019-10-31 9:45:16 PM  
5 votes:
My first job, as a young man, was working at the local Chicken Delight. Remember that? Part of my job was delivering food to customers. I drove a Nash metropolitan. It had the back seat removed, and a sterno stove was placed there. Yes, driving around the city with an open flame in the back seat. I was directed to deliver a chicken dinner to an older part of town. The city was Buffalo and there are some wonderful old wooden homes there still. I rang the door bell and was greeted by a middle aged lady. It was in the autumn and raining. She beckoned me inside and said to me, "wait in the parlor while I go get my purse". The room had lots of dark wood trim I remember. It was furnished with oriental rugs and had several portraits of men and women, on the walls. The very weird thing that it also had was 12 washing machines spaced equally into a semi circle. All the plugs were gathered together in the center, unplugged from any wall. The lady came back into the room. She was wearing a black ankle length skirt of some type, and a black high collar blouse, with white piping around the collar and sleeves. The peculiar thing that I noticed was she appeared to glide over the floor, instead of taking normal steps. When I, several decades later, watched the movie "Rebecca" by Daphne de Maurier, I was struck how the housekeeper resembled this woman. Anyway, she promptly paid me and gave me a nice tip. I was quite nervous by now and made my exit. I'm in my early 70's now, and still remember this incident quite well...
 
2019-10-31 1:29:18 PM  
5 votes:

funk_soul_bubby: Squid_for_Brains: Indiana was completely deforested by 1900, which caused environmental collapse, which caused many people on the poorest farmland (the hills) to have to sell it by the 1930s, which caused the Civilian Conservation Corps to come in and aggressively plant as many trees as possible. So all of our state and federal wildernesses have the ruins of old homesteads.

O hai.I know a little about that. Here's old video of my dad taking his fifth grade class to an old "black" cemetery that's right up the road from the farm. I actually tracked down Oliver Burnett's ancestors. =)

(Incidentally most of his information came from Van Sanders as mentioned in my thread above.)

[YouTube video: Dennis Watterson teaching his Burris Elementary kids about local Mitchell history]


My (now elderly) mother lived in Mitchell for a period during her very fraught childhood. One of the few remaining black residents worked at the corner store, and would sneak penny candies to her and her four siblings, because he knew they  hardly had five cents for actual food.
She never forgot that kindness.
 
2019-10-31 1:26:40 PM  
5 votes:
ObscureNameHere:

I took my wife on a romantic weekend there once. We had a blast going to the museum and driving around to all the old sites... but of course we stayed and ate in New Liskeard.

At the museum gift shop, they had sheet music for "The Cobalt Song" (circa 1912), with a chorus that went "Sing a song of Cobalt/If you don'tlive there, it's your fault!"

And I think SansNeutral is talking about the other provincial bird... them six-legged carnivorous hummingbirds...
 
2019-10-31 1:12:59 PM  
5 votes:

Squid_for_Brains: Indiana was completely deforested by 1900, which caused environmental collapse, which caused many people on the poorest farmland (the hills) to have to sell it by the 1930s, which caused the Civilian Conservation Corps to come in and aggressively plant as many trees as possible. So all of our state and federal wildernesses have the ruins of old homesteads.


O hai.I know a little about that. Here's old video of my dad taking his fifth grade class to an old "black" cemetery that's right up the road from the farm. I actually tracked down Oliver Burnett's ancestors. =)

(Incidentally most of his information came from Van Sanders as mentioned in my thread above.)

Dennis Watterson teaching his Burris Elementary kids about local Mitchell history
Youtube a-SStutbz1A
 
2019-10-31 11:42:24 AM  
5 votes:
And of course, the sp000kiest place of all:

Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2019-10-31 10:26:33 AM  
5 votes:
And my Halloween is Happy once again.
 
2019-10-31 3:44:06 AM  
5 votes:
If you like ghost stories I highly recommend a book called Obake Files by Glen Grant.

He was an incredibly gifted storyteller and my all time best Halloween memory was back in college, listening to him tell Ghost Stories down in Waikiki on Halloween night.
 
2019-10-30 11:38:26 PM  
5 votes:

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 4:23:34 PM  
5 votes:
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
 
2019-11-01 2:09:21 PM  
4 votes:

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all


You'll definitely want to go back and read previous year's threads then. There are some classic stories in the early days.
 
2019-10-31 10:42:43 PM  
4 votes:
Also pretty wild to see Tharkin reappear.

Every time I listen to 'The Handing Down' by Magnolia Electric Co. - itself a pretty eerie song - I think of that story when it gets to the part about:

"Scarecrow leaves an hourglass above the crossroads for me
Filled with tears and twilight from a friend's dying day
Here's a turkey feather for his favorite hat and a love letter from the ace of spades..."
 
2019-10-31 10:03:31 PM  
4 votes:

rat_creature: starsrift: I grew up in the sticks. As a kid, all my scares involved bears, cougars, abandoned cabins, and random staircases in the woods. Cheers to y'all with a story to tell.

Sounds like you yourself might have some stories to tell...


Nah, I'm no Cat-Like Typing to make a good story out of a couple of bedframes. Suffice to say, you stumble over a cabin in the woods, and you use it to shelter from a storm or whatnot, you take the time after the storm to leave it like you came in - fuel ready to fire and everything. Better for everyone, all around.
 
2019-10-31 9:47:31 PM  
4 votes:
I still have a lot to read in this thread. I love that this year were not getting bombarded with novellas that someone is writing (no offense, just link those huge walls of text) but I wanted to get this out. I wrote last year about how my shiatty little rental house is haunted. But I'm pretty sure a year ago I was the only one who had heard it. This year, both boys have and have asked me about it. And looking back before I hit the button, this seems way longer than I intended. So I give the worst advice.

I always heard squeaky doorknobs turn when the boys were with their mom and I was alone. I know the doorknobs that sound like that and they are standard shiatty fake brass don't even have a lock interior door knobs. But they squeak. Just like I hear sometimes. When I'm alone.

So my kids are weird. They've never had nightmares. I used to have awful ones but I'm so effing glad that they don't. But my oldest boy, 11 at the time, came into my bedroom after I had already tucked him and his brother in and said goodnight. He asked me very matter of factly why I kept jiggling his bedroom doorknob. But I was asleep and he woke me up by asking this and he never wakes up in the night ever. But their bedroom door was member what I had heard turning in the past. So...

And my youngest boy, 10, has heard the squeaky doorknobs, but I had already told him about hearing them so I kinda doubt he really does. But he was freaked out when he told me about the lady in the kitchen. He only saw her when she passed in front of an unshaded window in the daylight. Outside of the window frame, she wasn't visible but she was definitely inside the kitchen.

So that's kinda neat. It used to be that only I could hear it. Now my kids can sometimes. My kids are only here half the time so they're not as familiar. But ghosts aren't real and it's totally cool that they're recognizing my children.
 
2019-10-31 9:18:06 PM  
4 votes:
From a notebook found in a crawlspace:

-Los Angeles, 1892
It was the witching hour. On a shelf, a clock set in an ornately carved teak case softly chimed 13 o'clock. Professional men George Wyman and Sumner Hunt lay on wooden pallets cushioned by soft quilts and tightly packed buckwheat hull pillows covered in intricate silk brocade. They were in a secret Chinatown opium den behind a red door in a ramshackle three-story wooden building full of oddly angled halls.
On the street, under a string of brightly colored paper lanterns, a vendor sold noodle soup from a stall. Crustaceans swarmed in a glass barrel that stood next to his crude wood-burning stove. They resembled Pacific mole crabs or sea lice but shed of their shells. Each was roughly the size of a chicken wing with a transparent, jelly-like body that emitted light through some internal mechanism. Without the multicolored flashes, they'd have been nearly invisible. The color display may have been some form of communication. There was regularity to the pulses that suggested code. But as any telegraph operator knew, the tapping of woodpeckers often produced 'messages' in Morse. It was a random universe, but nobody in this alley knew Morse code. If something ran, crawled, or wriggled here, it was food.
A customer stopped at the stall and held up two fingers. The vendor took a small bowl and slopped in some noodles with a pair of chopsticks. With a bamboo ladle, he splashed a thin, golden broth over the noodles. With the same tool, he scooped two of the creatures out of the glass barrel and placed them directly into the broth. They furiously flashed red and blue. The customer sipped from the bowl. He took his chopsticks and captured one of the pulsing crustaceans. He raised it to his lips and, in what seemed to be a moment of self-awareness, the gelatinous little blob emitted a piecing, human-sounding shriek. The diner bit down without interest or emotion and the alley was quiet again.
"Did you hear something?" George Wyman drowsily asked Sumner Hunt. Hunt shrugged and mumbled incoherently.
 
2019-10-31 11:40:43 AM  
4 votes:
So one of the sites, you access from a pretty well-maintained road. Unlike a lot of the sites, there are cottages in the area, as well as forestry and mineral exploration, and as a result, the site has been pretty heavily accessed and vandalized. Somebody even set up a little shooting range. Anyway, you come from behind the mill building and leach tanks, as shown in this drone photo:

Fark user imageView Full Size


So I drove in, looked around the yard (covered in bright orange mine tailings), took some photos of the debris, and only then did I look behind me to see a truck peeping at me from inside the mill building:

Fark user imageView Full Size


Scared the absolute bejeezus out of me. Turns out it was an abandoned truck, but it was impossible to know in the darkness of the mill building until I got closer. Those few steps up to the truck to check whether there was anyone in it were nerve-wracking. I mean, I had my permission to access forms on me, but I had already seen the shooting range mentioned above...

The other thing was, the mill building STUNK. I've smelled about every chemical contaminant known to humanity, and this was... maybe PCBs/transformer oil but not quite. Even if PCBs was all it was, that's plenty spooky for me.
 
2019-10-31 5:01:52 AM  
4 votes:
I certainly thought the house was haunted at the time. I was thirteen, and I was unreasonably afraid to go up the stairs to my room after dark, unless the light in the bathroom at the top of the stairs was turned on first.

It was a big old blue Victorian, the first house we lived in after moving to Illinois. It was built in the late 1890s, and it had a large, old cold storage room in the basement, plus a long narrow room down there with hooks in the ceiling for hanging meat. The furnace was a sprawling 'spider-duct' thing that fascinated my dad because it seemed almost as old as the house. There were pigeons nesting in the attic, an ancient and roughly built china cabinet in the kitchen (that we took with us and still have), a clawfoot iron tub without any kind of shower fixture in the upstairs bathroom, no closets in any of the upstairs bedrooms, and no ceiling light fixtures up there either. They had just run wiring up through the old gas wall lamps instead. The dining room on the main floor was used instead as my dad's office. The paint on three of the walls was a weird pink. The interior wall was covered in mirrored tiles.

It was an odd place. And, like I said, we all thought it was haunted. One night there was a pale, humanoid shape against my bedroom wall and door, that I never saw again. It -could- have been from the restaurants and streetlights lining the road behind the house, coming through my window and formed by the trees and leaves that were in the way, but that shape never reappeared. We each of us were freaked out by that wall of mirrors at least once or twice, after seeing something that wasn't any of us move in the reflections. And, of course, I really hated that staircase when it was dark.

Whether it was actually haunted or not I don't know, now. None of us saw anything completely inexplicable. A weird vibe, noises from the pigeons, possibly imagined movement in the mirrors, and the oldness of it all, that's all I remember for sure. That and the hidden crawlspace we found in my parents' bedroom when we were moving out, that had some old toys in it - not antiques, just stuff that might have been left by the previous tenant. However!

A year or two after we moved out and the place was demolished, I started attending the high school that was right across the street from that property. The high school was built on the site of the old city cemetery. I think the house had been built well after the city started moving that cemetery to a site outside the city limits, but I'm not sure how long that process took after it started in the mid 1870s.

Either way, the high school was built after 1917 on the old cemetery grounds, and while attending there I heard all sorts of ghost stories, most involving the largely unoccupied 4th floor (only accessible from narrow stairways) and in particular the elevator shaft. The story is, when the elevator was under construction in the 1980s, workers found a broken tombstone at the bottom of the shaft they were digging. The date on the stone was worn away, but there was an incription on one side that read "Cut down but not destroyed". There is no name on the stone, but ever since it was found the person it belonged to has been called Rachel. No one knows who first decided her name was Rachel, but supposedly one group of historians who looked for the origins of the stone discovered that a plot next to the location of the elevator shaft did belong to a girl named Rachel.

Apparently they've since kept the stone in the school's basement, in the maintenance room. No bits of bone were ever found so the theory is just this stone was missed when the cemetery was moved.

I don't recall anything overtly scary about the school, either. The main part of the building, the oldest section, can be creepy - the auditorium, old gym, and the 4th floor especially - and while I never ventured into the basement, the photos and video i found of that area look dangerous and uninviting as all crap. But the history of that property, and the fact that our old house was right next to a disturbed cemetery, just has me thinking it would be odd if that area WASN'T haunted in some way...

I'll try to link a YouTube video I found last year about it. It came up while my mom and I were looking through haunted school videos, and damn I was surprised to see it.
 
2019-10-31 1:28:07 AM  
4 votes:

Keeve: a particular individual: 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.

I would read it.


https://www.fark.com/comments/1023719​4​/118467464#c118467464
 
2019-10-31 1:21:01 AM  
4 votes:
I read in the early thread that a lot of ghost events are caused by infrasound (low frequencies you feel more than hear).  I looked it up an youtube and sure enough it worked.  I don't ever get anxious, but I could feel myself getting anxious almost immediately after listening.  Even after I turned off the sound shadows would dance at the corners of my vision as I walked through the dark house to bed and every creak was something behind me ready to jump out.  It was a really trippy experience.  I suggest you load this up, and listen while you read the thread.

19Hz infrasound - The fearing frequency
Youtube k5hZGh7Ndms
 
2019-11-01 3:35:56 AM  
3 votes:
Keeve:

Speaking of satellite, I went to my old boss' place one time. It started out as a tony cottage and got added on by several of the owners over the years. It was a sweet cabin at this point, but it was just weird. Like the light switches, he was telling me about them and walked over to the wall "see this one? *flicks switch a few times* No one knows what it does." The weirdest thing was this very disorienting feeling when I was in the hallway to the master bedroom, it was like my perspective was twisted looking down it, and I couldn't balance very well. If you've been the the barn at the Oregon Vortex, the one where you can balance a broom on the bristles, it felt just like that.

The weirdest part? He was showing me some land adjacent to his that he wanted to buy. It was clear cut along the property line. He showed me his dirtbike trail and I saw a hill. I looked at it closer and I shiat you not, as you got to the top of the hill it was like looking through the trees from ground level. Like, on the sides and all around this hill was normal top-down, but as you looked up from either side it was like the light warped toward 90 degrees like you would see just standing there.

Very, very weird place. It's got a natural spring on the property, so it might be something to do with a strange shaped aquifer. I'm pretty sure the place has spirits, it has that feeling, but he tends to appease them with art and sculptures and stuff so they don't bother him.
 
2019-11-01 12:16:06 AM  
3 votes:

Dick Hammer: I was at a party (I abhor parties but I was hungry and hoping for snacks, there were none. They invited me with the explicit plea "come have some food!", the liars). Everybody else was already drunk when I arrived. I attempted a few conversations but nobody would talk, just smirk at me. This gay dude who had always been really sweet came up to me and told me not to freak out, but he can see spirits and I am constantly followed by evil spirits screaming "KILL HER! KILL HER!" He was pretty incoherent and I tried to get more details to get an idea if he was just screwing with me, but he wouldn't say much else except that I'm really strong so it's probably nothing to worry about,then he just kind of wandered off with his boyfriend.  I wanted to call my mom because she was a believer but it was late and I didn't want to wake her. I got ahold of her the next morning and found out she'd had her first heart attack while I was at the party. The doctor installed a stent and said it probably wasn't much to worry about because she was strong. I got to talk to her a few more times but she died two days later. Afterward I asked the psychic if maybe he'd been mistaken; could the spirits have meant *my mom* was dying? Could they have meant to warn me, maybe not "kill her", but "tell her"? He just got really vague and kept refusing to talk about it and saying everything is fine. I still kinda think it's just some lame party-bit he does for attention and the whole thing with my mom was just a coincidence. Though the evil-spirit thing is kinda believable because it's kind of a joke how badly people treat me in real life for no reason; people do hate me irrationally on sight and they make no secret of it (the honest ones are all too happy to scream it at me explicitly) but that could be just because I'm not pretty.  Strangers scream at ugly people all the time, don't they? Sure they do. The entire "party" was probably just a set-up for this one creepy prank, telling me I'm pursued by demons to try to scare me. I was 35 and most of these people were in their 50s, btw. So, well past the age of "pranks".
/I am Carrie in real life//nobody has ever been nice to me unless they were planning to drop pig-blood on me///not even once


I like you though.
 
2019-10-31 10:16:35 PM  
3 votes:
Not spooky, but coincidental.

Having counted down the register, I finished closing down work around 10:15 pm. As I left the office, I managed to be clumsy and run into the door, bending up my glasses and leaving me with a nice little cut between the eyes.

After depositing the night bag into the bank drop (right across the parking lot, thankfully), I wandered home to my shared apartment. My roommate and his girlfriend were there, as expected, and they leapt up together, visibly excited, when I came in the door. Questions spilled out of them: "Did anything strange happen ten minutes ago? Did you feel or see something?" "I ran into a door," I answered. They both laughed, and went on to explain that ten minutes or so before they had both experienced a very strong personal feeling, one of anger and pain, and were trying to figure out what had gone on. Our conversation turned to some other, close friends of ours, and the next day we discovered that their relationship had ended just about the time my roommate and his girlfriend felt the sensation and I ran into the door. If there is any psychic connection here, the sort of thing that might play out again in the future (and I truly doubt that there is), I am not keen on the idea that I would get the stick to the knee while everyone else gets chills and odd sensations.
 
2019-10-31 8:05:01 PM  
3 votes:

namegoeshere: Also it is pouring rain, thunder and lightning, windy as hell, I'm alone in the house, my kid is out doing Halloween stuff, the power keeps browning out. and the Emergency Broadcast System just went off. Someone please come hang out with me.

No psychos though, please.


It's raining here too, just pissing like all get out.  The fireplace is yammering and moaning in the downdrafts.  Only the bravest are coming in for candy, and I give them a quarter bowl each just for making the trip.  "FOR THIS, ... A QUARTER PORTION."

I don't think we'll win the "Netflix most paused movies" metric this year.  Nice and warm, though, and far better than those years when it's snowing and the kids have winter coats over everything else.
 
2019-10-31 8:04:54 PM  
3 votes:
Here's a link if you want to read my Halloween posts.


Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2019-10-31 4:53:57 PM  
3 votes:
There have been 3 separate occasions where I have been wrapping up a visit with someone I was close to and had a very clear and loud thought "You will not see this person again" in my head. All 3 times, the person has died some time later, but before I ever saw them again.

Admittedly, one was very old and ill, so that might not count, but the other 2 were young and healthy and there was no reason to think that.
 
2019-10-31 2:52:55 PM  
3 votes:
🎃
 
2019-10-31 10:18:48 AM  
3 votes:
It's the late 1990s. Imagine you're a sheltered, trying-to-be hippie girl out on a summer night with her teenage friends. They have some weed and a few hits of weak acid, but nowhere to go that is quiet, private, and dark.
Then one friend mentions that he knows of an old, old cemetery on a bluff above the river. The woods are thick and it's undeveloped except for some bike trails. It sounds scary, but you grab your tent and go. You have to hike an abandoned field and climb a hill to get there. And even in the sunset, it's spooky as hell: old gravestones are everywhere, at every angle, some only nubs of stone and most bearing the same two surnames. There has been no burial there for a century.
Your friends build a small fire while you pitch the tent. You start to feel better. No one will find you here: it's time to party. You take your dose and pass a joint as darkness falls. One guy starts a round of ghost stories, of course. You laugh, but with the first mild acid-tingle and the firelight flickering over the canted stones, that tingle becomes a chill.
Someone says he sees faces. You tell him it's the acid. He repeats himself, with urgency. You look, to humor him.
And you see them too.
Just beyond the stones and on the periphery of the firelight, two ghostly faces. They fade, then appear again. Your friend is freaked and now you are too. Hallucinations aren't shared. Someone else whispers: "What the fark...?" and just like that, terror.
One figure seems to be a woman: old-fashioned spectacles, dark hair parted in the center, long black dress. The other is a man with sideburns and a cravat. They seem to fade again.
Someone whispers that people who died in the Civil War are buried here. You want to leave, right now, and never come back.
But then the faces return, along with a voice:
"Uh, hi!"
And you realize, as you start laugh-crying in relief, that you've been staring at a goth girl (me) and her boyfriend who came to drink wine like pretentious assholes, found our spot occupied, and stood there awkwardly in the dark while we decided to advance or retreat.
 
2019-10-31 5:53:46 AM  
3 votes:

CAT-LIKE TYPING DETECTED: Almost forgot about this one..  Manga/comic..obvious fiction, but good..

The Enigma of Amigara Fault


Remember to read right to left..     =P
 
2019-10-31 12:14:31 AM  
3 votes:

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.
 
2019-10-30 6:28:03 PM  
3 votes:

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 5:47:20 PM  
3 votes:
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 5:20:17 PM  
3 votes:
Last Podcast on the Left - Who Was Phone?
Youtube cVYTUuYKob8
 
2019-11-01 7:25:59 PM  
2 votes:
First genuine ghost/spirit/memory/fark NO thing that I couldn't chalk up to sleep/dreams happened when I was 19, at work.

It was me and the closing mgr., who was counting the drawers and safe at the grocery store we worked at. Now, Jeremy was former Army turned oil-field welder, covered with tats and was only doing the mgr job while the kids got settled before he went back out on the rigs. No bullshiat kinda guy.

We're hanging out in the office while he's doing money and we hear the most heart-wrenching, blood-curdling scream that was so full of anger that it could only be human, pulling on those primal strings to tell us somethings wrong and to GTFO from back in the Produce section. 6'3, 270lbs of a tattooed guy throwing shiat in the safe and going "Nope! Let's go!" gets you moving PDQ. We didn't even set the alarm.

[Verbatim, because I remember it bc if scared the shiat out of me] Next morning, ol Bobby Madere, the acting GM who'd been there for 30 years but refused the title goes "Robinson! C'mere!" "Why the hell did y'all run off? Didja steal some beer and drink early? Get laid? Get stoned?" (Bobby was...an oddball. My work etiquette role model, but HR would vilify him now for being a dirty old-timer). "No! Bobby, we heard someone yelling in produce and....<lost for words> just kinda freaked. It was mad and scared and we just tossed everything in the safe and figured you would figure it out today." He leaned back against the counter and grumbled "Produce? Where?" "Sounded like the loading dock."

I've never seen a 5'6" man go from red to white so fast. Mr. Time-to-lean-time-to-clean went from 100-0. "Aight Robinson. Go clock in."

Couple years later I found out that there'd been a fire in the 70's. The cardboard compactor in Produce fried and the layout only had the main entrance and loading bay, so only 2 ways out. Guy went back in looking for his wife and died in the smoke, and Bobby had heard the screams of anger himself over the years. For a good ol boy to lose his shiat and ignore a firing offense...

It's been 19 years and Jeremy and I are still Facebook friends. Every couple Halloweens one of us gets drunk and brings it up, the other reminds that we don't bring it up bc we've got different religious backgrounds and will turn into a fight.
 
2019-11-01 3:43:56 PM  
2 votes:
I think I was sleep paralyzed one night. When I was about 4 I woke up to, but couldn't move, seeing a ghost of a woman coming toward me and I remember it well. I started screaming for my mom and she retreated out the wall where the window was.

Found out later that house had been abandoned for about 30 or more years before we bought it because an old woman was hung in the upstairs hall closet by robbers (my dad rebuilt it almost from scratch with about all that was left was beams, a colonial house from around the 1750s - had a 4 sided fireplace with a hiding space under it in the basement to hide from indians).
 
2019-10-31 11:31:58 PM  
2 votes:

Honest Geologist: Also pretty wild to see Tharkin reappear.

Every time I listen to 'The Handing Down' by Magnolia Electric Co. - itself a pretty eerie song - I think of that story when it gets to the part about:

"Scarecrow leaves an hourglass above the crossroads for me
Filled with tears and twilight from a friend's dying day
Here's a turkey feather for his favorite hat and a love letter from the ace of spades..."


It wasn't difficult to find him. His name is in his profile.
 
2019-10-31 10:17:32 PM  
2 votes:
Follow up to my Dad's 'aura seeing':  I read my post to my family (as I  think this is the first year I have said anything of a personal nature) and my first born says "Oh yeah.  I could see auras when I was a kid.  It went away at around 12 " (they are now 21).
Huh. Maybe I should relax  my mind a bit and see what happens.
 
2019-10-31 10:00:30 PM  
2 votes:
Ok not really a ghost story, but the closest thing I have.

I once got lured into visiting family that I hadn't seen in 20 years, for the promise of a bogus job-prospect. While there I was trying to avoid my relatives as much as possible so I spent many days just driving aimlessly around the rural parts of the state. One one such trip I was gripped by a sudden painful need to urinate. There was nothing around but farms and woods, but enough traffic that I didn't feel comfortable just stopping & going on the roadside; I had already been stopped three times in one week in different towns by the same bored state-trooper, so I was trying to keep out of trouble.  Finally I rounded a bend and saw a puny little old cemetery by the roadside. The urge to urinate was desperate, I pulled in and tried to pull to the back for privacy from the road but I stopped and hopped out at a random spot when I knew I couldn't hold it anymore, ducked behind a stone and whizzed. Walked around to the front of the stone and it was my Great Grandmother & Grandfather's stone. They both had very unique names and though I'd never met them, I'd never forgotten my mother telling me their weird names when I was little.

Coincidence? Yeah, probably. Or my psychic-telepathy-spirit-urine, you decide.

 
2019-10-31 9:51:27 PM  
2 votes:
Sairobi:
//Also welcome back Tharkin!! Thank you for my absolute favorite FARK Halloween story!

Thanks! Glad you've enjoyed it :)
 
2019-10-31 7:45:53 PM  
2 votes:

hiredgoonz: rebelyell2006: hiredgoonz: rebelyell2006: 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 ...


Sounds more to me like a planned housing development where the city agreed to build the access roads and infrastructure but then the developer went bankrupt before work could begin on the actual development. Hurricane Agnes you say? >checks Wikipedia to see where that made landfall< Ah, Florida! Just as I expected!

When I was in High School in Maryland there was a similar totally-out-of-place street in the middle of nowhere: a wide, four-lane, median-divided boulevard-to-nowhere. They even went so far as to plant trees all up and down the median and install modern street lights far superior to what was on any of the connecting roads, apparently just to illuminate the deserted streets and pretty trees. That was built about a decade and a half ago and only in the past few years did the developments it was meant to serve open up.
 
2019-10-31 7:31:48 PM  
2 votes:
I have to admit, being the site supervisor is fun.  Like right now, all of my employees have left for the day, and I am sitting on the can thanks to four days of antibiotics.  I hear pops and crunches and bangs, and I have not heard the door chime go off to indicate anybody has come in.  It is a four year old metal building, but still, anyone who believes in ghosts might think my museum campus is haunted.  Or maybe it was just shoddy work on a building that is settling.  Even the light fixture behind me is making popping noises, and the toilet motion sensors are badly calibrated so they flush at random, even with Post-it notes blocking the sensors.
 
2019-10-31 6:55:45 PM  
2 votes:

Witchyman: I used to drive tractor trailer for a large 'salty snack' company. I delivered to the guys who deliver the stuff to the stores.

So I catch a run I've never done before. Up through Western Massachusetts and into the sticks Vermont. I start at midnight, knock out Massachusetts and head for Vermont. The place I'm delivering to is a huge building. Paperwork says how to get inside and that I should back the trailer into the building to make it easier. As I'm unlocking everything I notice that the part of the building not being used for chip storage used to be a crematorium. Still has faded signs and stuff. So I back the truck in and start the delivery.

After about five trips in with a hand truck full of chips, I start hearing bangs and slamming noises coming from the other part of the building. It's winter so I am trying to blow it off as the wind in an old building. As I keep working I still hear the noise. It's loud, and while I'm a pretty brave dude I'm starting to get a little spooked.

Leave the hand truck and start walking to the other part of the building. There is a waist high wall separating the two sides. I get to the wall and lean in, trying to see what I could see. Whole area is dark as fark.

And then the horse that is stabled there leans over and snuffles my hair. Damn near pissed myself and died of a heart attack.


Ha!  That's a great story.   Poor horse was probably just lonely.
 
2019-10-31 5:50:38 PM  
2 votes:

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 ...


Chills.
 
2019-10-31 4:55:16 PM  
2 votes:
No Ghosts in here in SF. They can't afford the rent.
 
2019-10-31 4:39:34 PM  
2 votes:
I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all
 
2019-10-31 3:18:03 PM  
2 votes:

meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."


Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.
 
2019-10-31 3:06:02 PM  
2 votes:
My little ones used to claim there's a "grandfather" that lives in the attic, but so far as we can tell the house isn't haunted. The master bathroom has a low flow toilet though, so it's kind of the same
 
2019-10-31 2:18:21 PM  
2 votes:

Jerseysteve22: If anyone is in Newport RI, stay in the Francis Malbone House BnB. That place is definitely haunted! Walked around one night after hours taking photos and video. Weird stuff started happening: Walked through a cold spot, started hearing weird stuff along the walls, tapping footsteps behind me, ran back to my room and the door handle jiggled but without someone on the other side of the door. Definitely creepy!


Newport, RI. That reminds me of the pic I took in an old churchyard cemetery I was walking thru there.

What's that peeking over the headstone?
Fark user imageView Full Size


Creepy translucent green thing with a white eye and red unhappy lips
Fark user imageView Full Size

Pareidolia (seeing faces where they are none?) Probably, but what is it?

I took the picture back in 2012 with my digital camera with a tiny screen, so I didn't notice it until I got home and saw it on my big computer monitor.
 
2019-10-31 2:06:09 PM  
2 votes:
If anyone is in Newport RI, stay in the Francis Malbone House BnB. That place is definitely haunted! Walked around one night after hours taking photos and video. Weird stuff started happening: Walked through a cold spot, started hearing weird stuff along the walls, tapping footsteps behind me, ran back to my room and the door handle jiggled but without someone on the other side of the door. Definitely creepy!
 
2019-10-31 1:49:25 PM  
2 votes:

SansNeural: Walker: That pain stayed with me days and it hurt a lot. I had never felt pain in that area before or since

Don't be too concerned.  It was a helpful spirit dislodging a kidney stone before it got to big to pass.  Musta been a small one that got stuck near the top of the ureter before finally straightening up and moving on out.


Whew. That makes me feel better.
I should go back and thank them.
 
2019-10-31 12:51:39 PM  
2 votes:
Not exactly scary but I grew up in New England close to one of the oldest cemeteries in America. It has headstones going back to the late 1600's to about the mid 1800's. It has this one above ground crypt (low level rectangular brick with a granite lid) that every few Halloweens gets broken into. Some kids will try and push the cover off thinking they'll see a skeleton or something not realizing that what ever was originally put in there turned to dust long ago. My mother is on the local historical commission and over the years said commission has tried to stop this activity. I suggested that they rig it so the top opens easily and put a little note inside explaining things and/or on Halloween have someone in there ready to pop out. But that's just me.
 
2019-10-31 10:51:22 AM  
2 votes:

chknjetski: And my Halloween is Happy once again.


My feelings are mixed.  I was able to share but hope I didn't disappoint sherpa18 with my obviously bullshiat* story.

*or is it?
 
2019-10-31 1:14:04 AM  
2 votes:

Keeve: a particular individual: 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.

I would read it.


I'll see if I (the mods) can find it. It had newspaper clippings, and everything.
 
2019-10-31 12:38:32 AM  
2 votes:
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?!
 
2019-10-30 8:23:09 PM  
2 votes:

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 4:14:10 PM  
2 votes:
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 3:27:00 PM  
2 votes:
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.
 
2019-11-01 5:27:35 PM  
1 vote:

SumoJeb: I just finished watching some creepy Halloween movies. Now that the TV is off I noticed there are children's hand prints on the screen. There has not been a child in this house in over 5 years. The TV is less than a year old....
I tried to snap a pic, but I cant get the camera to pick up the greasy hand prints on the black glass


Were you watching...

Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2019-11-01 3:14:20 PM  
1 vote:

ravenhairedmaid: Cat-Like Typing Detected:
I'm sorry, but I don't get it---the bed moved from one room to another? Itcwasn't 2 identical beds? No offense is meant, maybe I'm reading it wrong ...


The bed apparently moved from room #1 to room #4..there was only the one bed..
 
2019-11-01 1:23:58 PM  
1 vote:
Cat-Like Typing Detected:
I'm sorry, but I don't get it---the bed moved from one room to another? Itcwasn't 2 identical beds? No offense is meant, maybe I'm reading it wrong ...
 
2019-11-01 12:53:27 AM  
1 vote:

meg12279: Honest Geologist: meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."

Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.

It is reassuring.  The medium also told me that my son and I find pennies all the time, and that he leaves him. Without fail, every time the man is on my mind, I'll find a penny.  And not just laying around like you always do-there will be a bright shiny one on a surface I just cleaned, so I know it wasn't there before.


I do a ghost tour in Fells Point, Baltimore - and one of the ghosts leaves pennies for people who clean her house....
 
2019-11-01 12:33:36 AM  
1 vote:

Theory Of Null: The night my father died in a car accident and before anyone knew he passed away his old stereo in the living room turned on by itself and played the eagles or maybe it was dire straights. I can't remember. We shut it off but it came back on and starting playing radio static so she unplugged it. Then the phone rang and rang but nobody was on the line. The following week we stayed at my grandmas and my mom had a priest exorcise the house no joke.


sorry dire straits.
 
2019-10-31 11:23:24 PM  
1 vote:
Chalk me up as another under bad weather, this Halloween..  Pouring rain all during the trick-or-treat hours and not a single ghoul or goblin at my door.  To be fair, I live on a side road in a rural town and get very few every year, as it is..the rain just sealed the deal..

/..however, several local municipalities have set Nov 2nd as the 'official' trick-or-treat nite..  P'rhaps Sat nite I'll have better luck..
 
2019-10-31 11:02:46 PM  
1 vote:
I was at a party (I abhor parties but I was hungry and hoping for snacks, there were none. They invited me with the explicit plea "come have some food!", the liars). Everybody else was already drunk when I arrived. I attempted a few conversations but nobody would talk, just smirk at me. This gay dude who had always been really sweet came up to me and told me not to freak out, but he can see spirits and I am constantly followed by evil spirits screaming "KILL HER! KILL HER!" He was pretty incoherent and I tried to get more details to get an idea if he was just screwing with me, but he wouldn't say much else except that I'm really strong so it's probably nothing to worry about,then he just kind of wandered off with his boyfriend.  I wanted to call my mom because she was a believer but it was late and I didn't want to wake her. I got ahold of her the next morning and found out she'd had her first heart attack while I was at the party. The doctor installed a stent and said it probably wasn't much to worry about because she was strong. I got to talk to her a few more times but she died two days later. Afterward I asked the psychic if maybe he'd been mistaken; could the spirits have meant *my mom* was dying? Could they have meant to warn me, maybe not "kill her", but "tell her"? He just got really vague and kept refusing to talk about it and saying everything is fine. I still kinda think it's just some lame party-bit he does for attention and the whole thing with my mom was just a coincidence. Though the evil-spirit thing is kinda believable because it's kind of a joke how badly people treat me in real life for no reason; people do hate me irrationally on sight and they make no secret of it (the honest ones are all too happy to scream it at me explicitly) but that could be just because I'm not pretty.  Strangers scream at ugly people all the time, don't they? Sure they do. The entire "party" was probably just a set-up for this one creepy prank, telling me I'm pursued by demons to try to scare me. I was 35 and most of these people were in their 50s, btw. So, well past the age of "pranks".


/I am Carrie in real life

//nobody has ever been nice to me unless they were planning to drop pig-blood on me

///not even once

 
2019-10-31 10:33:37 PM  
1 vote:

Brainsick: Astorix: Another weird reincarnation story. My ex sister in law, when she was a little girl, around 4, used to describe in detail houses and events that nobody else in the family ever heard.

Her mother asked her "when did you do (or hear this)

She said "when I was a boy."

They laughed and made fun of her until she closed her mind off to it.

I wonder if when we are little kids we know more but learn to close our minds off to it. Just a thought.

My daughter is three, and very loquacious. (Go figure)
The other day she looks at my wife and says "I don't like it when the bad baby follows me. Because it's a sneaky baby and a bad baby."
0_o

/We live in an apartment complex that's the definition of boring architecture
//also live near plenty of infrasound sources
///and in the SeaTac flight path... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


We were playing in the leaf pile and the front yard the other day, and my 3-year-old decides that the path to the house is "the ugly land, the yucky land", and we had to hide behind the leaf pile like Sam and Bilbo from the eye of Sauron. I asked her why, and she said "there's a guy there that will make you eat yucky foods, like honey lemon."
 
2019-10-31 9:50:54 PM  
1 vote:

rat_creature: starsrift: I grew up in the sticks. As a kid, all my scares involved bears, cougars, abandoned cabins, and random staircases in the woods. Cheers to y'all with a story to tell.

Sounds like you yourself might have some stories to tell...


I hope this works. Totally worth the read.
 
2019-10-31 9:48:18 PM  
1 vote:
 
2019-10-31 9:34:56 PM  
1 vote:
Halloween is supposed to be the one day a year that I give Fark a break from posting horrifying stories of my experiences.

/butt stuff

 
2019-10-31 9:23:00 PM  
1 vote:

starsrift: I grew up in the sticks. As a kid, all my scares involved bears, cougars, abandoned cabins, and random staircases in the woods. Cheers to y'all with a story to tell.


Sounds like you yourself might have some stories to tell...
 
2019-10-31 9:19:29 PM  
1 vote:
I grew up in the sticks. As a kid, all my scares involved bears, cougars, abandoned cabins, and random staircases in the woods. Cheers to y'all with a story to tell.
 
2019-10-31 7:40:58 PM  
1 vote:
And F*CK the edit function, I fixed those typos and edits! Typing on mobile is STUPID.
 
2019-10-31 7:39:37 PM  
1 vote:
True Story Bro:
Several years ago my husband (then boyfriend), a friend, and I were heading out to an SCA event out in the Bay Area. Sorta. It was off of some weird exits in the middle of nowhere, and thanks to some packing issues and things it was dark by the time we got to (what we tonight was) our exit, off of 880 to Old Calaveras Road. It was a twisting, windy, one-lane road, and this was the days before cheap GPS (or smartphones, just old Nokias), so we were valiantly trying to follow the printed instructions. (Also, f*ck you, MapQuest.)

At some point the trees got very tall and overgrown, and we began to see animals just chilling by the side of the road. Or the middle of it. Most wildlife will book it at the presence of a motor vehicle, but these farkers just watched us go by. Silently judging us. ...Okay, creepy. We're not superstitious or believe in supernatural weirdness, but something about this place just didn't seem right. Our friend had passed out for a nap in the backseat and she woke up because something felt off, too.

Then the radio shut off.

No static or fading or anything. Off.

F*ck it, nope. We pulled the fastest 3-point turn we had ever done and booked it the hell out of there. The radio came back on. A few minutes later the itchy, prickling feeling went away. We could see the sky again.

Apparently Old Calaveras Road crosses 880 like a badly stitched wound and we had taken the wrong exit. After getting the correct exit we proceeded to send out way up a switchback road up the hill, nearly melting the damn brakes. (That Olds got put through a LOT during its lifetime.) We stopped at a gate, and wondered if we were in the right place, when some gigantic bloke of Italian descent, wearing black leather and fur, detached from the shadows to ask if we were here for the SCA event, and goddamn near got clocked or run over by my now-jumpy BF, who is 6'5 and built like an outhouse constructed of cement building materials, as it were. We went in, found a spot where we would camp, and parked the car. Achy from the trip, we got out and stretched-

And saw more stars than we'd ever seen before. In a bit of a bowl atop one of the hills/mountains in the Coastal Range this place blocked the city lights that normally erased the sky. We had never seen the Milky Way before, and constellations that previously been just a couple of points of light were now stellar portraits. Definitely worth the mortal terror we had experienced only a couple of hours before. :)
 
2019-10-31 7:15:12 PM  
1 vote:
In 2008 I married a woman who ended up being a co-dependent narcissistic sociopath.  The end.

/Well, we separated at the end of '09 and finalized the divorce in '11, so I guess it has a happy ending.
 
2019-10-31 7:03:23 PM  
1 vote:
 
2019-10-31 6:29:00 PM  
1 vote:
I used to drive tractor trailer for a large 'salty snack' company. I delivered to the guys who deliver the stuff to the stores.

So I catch a run I've never done before. Up through Western Massachusetts and into the sticks Vermont. I start at midnight, knock out Massachusetts and head for Vermont. The place I'm delivering to is a huge building. Paperwork says how to get inside and that I should back the trailer into the building to make it easier. As I'm unlocking everything I notice that the part of the building not being used for chip storage used to be a crematorium. Still has faded signs and stuff. So I back the truck in and start the delivery.

After about five trips in with a hand truck full of chips, I start hearing bangs and slamming noises coming from the other part of the building. It's winter so I am trying to blow it off as the wind in an old building. As I keep working I still hear the noise. It's loud, and while I'm a pretty brave dude I'm starting to get a little spooked.

Leave the hand truck and start walking to the other part of the building. There is a waist high wall separating the two sides. I get to the wall and lean in, trying to see what I could see. Whole area is dark as fark.

And then the horse that is stabled there leans over and snuffles my hair. Damn near pissed myself and died of a heart attack.
 
2019-10-31 5:23:29 PM  
1 vote:

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all


The weird thing is I thought you were joking because I thought I'd seen you here every year.
I thought you had even posted stories.
I even went to the last few year's threads and did a search for your name and didn't find you.
I guess I was in a different timeline too.
 
2019-10-31 5:00:02 PM  
1 vote:
Well embedding seems to be broken for YouTube today but.....
HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN
HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN
SILVER SHAMROCK

https://youtu.be/hIHUv2ooG38
 
2019-10-31 4:43:54 PM  
1 vote:

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?

/cool stories all


Dude. I don't know if I'd admit that.
 
2019-10-31 4:43:19 PM  
1 vote:

Rev.K: I've been on Fark for 14 years and I'm just finding out this thread is a thing?

What is wrong with me?


Perhaps you were in a different timeline and have now crossed over? :)
 
2019-10-31 4:39:31 PM  
1 vote:
This one time in 1991, I got married.

That's my scary story.
 
2019-10-31 4:05:27 PM  
1 vote:
I joined the high school debate team back in 2001ish. For those of you that don't know, in Oklahoma, debate tournaments typically happen on Friday evening. They'll run from around 3 pm until 9-10 in the evening. Each round is approximately an hour long - maybe more depending on the format, and you travel across the whole region to go to different tournaments.

This particular tournament took place at Bethany High School, which was about two hours away from home. I was kind of grateful, because that meant that we got out of class around noon, and then we got to go on a trip. So that was great. It was November, so all the leaves had fallen off the trees. It's my time of year. Being the resident fat kid, cool air is kind of my thing, but anyway... So, our last round ended at 10, and we started back to my hometown, which is another tiny Oklahoma town with about 2000 or so people in it. Of course, since it's November, it's already dark when we leave. Did I mention I forgot to go to the bathroom before we left Bethany? Yeah... I'd been holding it since around 8 PM, so the whole time I'm sitting there needing to go, and my debate coach was kind of a douche, and didn't want to stop anywhere. So I hold it...

We get back to our school around midnight. No one is around but the debate team. We crowd around the door with our evidence boxes, waiting for our slow-poke of a debate coach to open the doors so we can call our parents, and put our debate equipment away for the night. On the way to the bathroom, I duck into the speech room, and place my evidence box on the stage, and start heading for the bathroom.

I get to the intersection of the two big hallways in the main high school building. Now, mind you, it is dead quiet in this hallway - though I can hear some murmurings from back toward the speech room. I look down this highschool hallway, toward the restrooms, and it's just this long empty hallway and at the end, there is a single light on at the end. I don't know why, but there's something about that hallway - late at night - that just raises the hackles on the back of my neck. I decide that I can wait until Mom comes and gets me and takes me home because I REALLY don't want to go down this hallway. So, I start back toward the speechroom. I get half way back to the speech room, and my bladder lets me know that there is no freaking way that it is going to wait until I get home. So, I turn back.

I get back to the intersection. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the lonesome walk down the darkened hallway.

It's not a very long walk - relatively speaking - from the intersection to the men's room, but there's got to be some obscure law of metaphysics that time passes slowly when you're worried. A thousand stories flash through my mind. Stories that I've heard about what happens in this high school late at night. The rational part of my brain is telling me that they're just stories. Some of them aren't even well written. No, no one tied up some outlaws in the school's boiler room just after the civil war and left them to starve. The school isn't nearly that old. But supposedly, a janitor died in what is now the copy room a few decades back.

Again, I want you to understand, that at a guess, the walk from the intersection to the bathroom is maybe 30 feet, but as I carefully tread down this hallway, time seems to flow at a sloth's pace. I remember a story about how a stack of chairs randomly flew across a room at a student after hours in the band room which was just behind me. I'm not sure how much stock I put in this story, but your mind does funny things when you're alone in a darkened hallway at midnight in November.

Finally, I get to the door. I take a deep breath, and open the door. There's a window on the other end of the restroom, and it lets a little sliver of moonlight snake in. The bathroom lights are off, but by the light of this single beam of light, I see a figure. This figure is totally shrouded in shadow, and it is standing directly in front of the sink, and for a moment, I just stare at it, and then it notices me.

"Oh...!" I said a word that my mother wouldn't be very proud to hear me say.

The figure tilts its head, looks at me, and then utters a phrase that I will remember to my dying day:

"Ummmmmmmmmmm...... I'm telling Mrs. Smith!" and with that, Thomas bounded past me, down the hallway and back to the speech room in search of someone to tattle to.
 
2019-10-31 3:44:45 PM  
1 vote:

gunshellmav: I don't know what he ever did with it, but every now and again, I bring up the 'hate book' to my wife to check if we're still cool.


Finish the story. What volume is she on?
 
2019-10-31 3:41:35 PM  
1 vote:

Honest Geologist: meg12279: We've had all sorts of experiences with my son's paternal grandfather, who died before he was born.  When my son was little he used to see him-he came back from Christmas at his grandmother's house one year and told me "I saw Grandpa! No one could see him but me, but he was happy!"

We've even had a medium describe his grandfather exactly, and he's described events in my son's life where his grandfather was around-these are times I don't even know about.  The medium told my son that his grandpa wanted him to try harder to make new friends-that too often my son goes off at recess and reads, or tries to talk to the teachers more than the other kids.

But the other night we were riding in the car, and my son wanted to play music on my phone.  He's got a playlist he likes, but he picked one he'd never played before-Illegal Smile, by John Prine.  He asked me what it was, and I said "Oh, it's an old song that your grandfather used to like.  It makes me think of him."  As we're driving something in me is saying "Don't look in the mirror".  I was convinced if i glanced back, I'd see his grandfather sitting there, beside my son.  I didn't say anything to my son about it.

So the song ends and a while later we get home, and as I'm helping my son out of the car, he says "When i played that song, I think Grandpa was sitting next to me."

Ghost grandpa's got good taste in music.

Something reassuring about these tales.


It is reassuring.  The medium also told me that my son and I find pennies all the time, and that he leaves him. Without fail, every time the man is on my mind, I'll find a penny.  And not just laying around like you always do-there will be a bright shiny one on a surface I just cleaned, so I know it wasn't there before.
 
2019-10-31 3:37:00 PM  
1 vote:

JeffKochosky: Thirty-five years on, and this one still bothers me... but, here goes.

When I was in my teens, I learned how to read Tarot cards. I had a Wiccan friend who taught me, and I picked up on it fairly well - had my own Rider deck that I kept under my pillow as I slept (to keep a connection with the cards). Anyhow, one night, I was in a bad headspace, as 15-year-olds can be, and I broke the one rule that my friend explained to me as a cardinal rule of the Tarot - never read for yourself.

Well, I did, and it wasn't a good reading. I don't recall the details of the reading at this point, and considering, it's probably for the best. Anyhow, after I finished with the cards, I wrapped them in the cloth that I kept them in, and put them back under my pillow. Then, I gave my girlfriend a call. The last time I remember looking at the clock beside my bed, it read 1:15am.

The next thing I knew, I was standing, looking out of my bedroom window, and the clock read 6:30am. The phone was no longer in my room. And the Tarot was gone from under my pillow.

I don't know what the hell happened in those missing five hours, and to be honest, I don't want to. But I have never so much as touched a Tarot deck since.


BUT WHERE WAS PHONE?
 
2019-10-31 3:21:30 PM  
1 vote:

Fightin' Helmfish: My little ones used to claim there's a "grandfather" that lives in the attic, but so far as we can tell the house isn't haunted. The master bathroom has a low flow toilet though, so it's kind of the same


Oh that reminds me of another story I can tell. My sister lived in a haunted house back in 2005. Her three sons used to see this old guy all the time. My oldest nephew, who is 21 now but 7 then, is the bad one of the three. He used to sleep in the top bunk of the bunk bed. He still talks about till this day that this old man used to bug him when he was trying to sleep and one time spanked him hard on the butt when he was in the top bunk. He wouldn't sleep there after that.

My sister says the middle nephew one time called out to her to come tell the man to stop talking to him so he could go to sleep.

The youngest nephew, who was probably around 4 at the time, had the most interaction with him. He still talks about him, what he was wearing and everything. They used to interact in the basement. He said nothing bad ever happened. He was a nice guy. He said he wore a red suit and was an old guy and just talked to him.

Turns out a previous owner (old man) dropped dead of a heart attack while mowing his lawn.
 
2019-10-31 2:00:33 PM  
1 vote:

TwilightZone: Who was phone?


Underneath.
 
2019-10-31 1:46:48 PM  
1 vote:
Who was phone?
 
2019-10-31 1:37:26 PM  
1 vote:

Walker: That pain stayed with me days and it hurt a lot. I had never felt pain in that area before or since


Don't be too concerned.  It was a helpful spirit dislodging a kidney stone before it got to big to pass.  Musta been a small one that got stuck near the top of the ureter before finally straightening up and moving on out.
 
2019-10-31 1:23:47 PM  
1 vote:

Honest Geologist: ObscureNameHere: Honest Geologist: No actual spooky stories from me this year. But I will post a few photos of a job I was on this summer. We were going around investigating abandoned mine sites in northern Ontario in preparation for ear...

Cobalt! Cobalt!

If you live there,it's your fault!

[Fark user image 850x637]

We had a couple sites right in Cobalt where there were basically tailings in people's backyards. Also unconfirmed rumours of a capped mineshaft somewhere under the schoolyard of the elementary school.

But most of them were way off the beaten path, in the middle of the woods. Same kind of infrastructure that you see preserved in Cobalt, but deteriorating much worse.

Another scary story is that the Town of Cobalt owns an air-powered mucker that sits out in the elements all year, and once a year they fire it up for the annual mining skills competition (sponsored by the above establishment). The guys from Kirkland Lake Gold apparently say it's in better condition than the actual machinery they use underground every day.


Yes, it is an odd little place.  The only reason I knew that little nursery rhyme ditty about it is that my wife grew-up one town over from Cobalt.     Guess even among 'the Tri-towns' there was a social pecking order, with Cobalt being at the bottom.
 
2019-10-31 1:20:07 PM  
1 vote:

ObscureNameHere: Honest Geologist: No actual spooky stories from me this year. But I will post a few photos of a job I was on this summer. We were going around investigating abandoned mine sites in northern Ontario in preparation for ear...

Cobalt! Cobalt!

If you live there,it's your fault!


Fark user imageView Full Size


We had a couple sites right in Cobalt where there were basically tailings in people's backyards. Also unconfirmed rumours of a capped mineshaft somewhere under the schoolyard of the elementary school.

But most of them were way off the beaten path, in the middle of the woods. Same kind of infrastructure that you see preserved in Cobalt, but deteriorating much worse.

Another scary story is that the Town of Cobalt owns an air-powered mucker that sits out in the elements all year, and once a year they fire it up for the annual mining skills competition (sponsored by the above establishment). The guys from Kirkland Lake Gold apparently say it's in better condition than the actual machinery they use underground every day.
 
2019-10-31 12:26:37 PM  
1 vote:

Squid_for_Brains: I'm a curious skeptic, and an atheist-with-benefits; I know that the natural world is far stranger than we realize, and also that I don't know everything.
That being said, I might as well be psychically deaf. I've lived in several spooky old houses, hung out in graveyards, been 3rd shift security for two museums housed on old grounds or in old buildings, been ghost hunting, and to this day I think I've accidentally been the cause of more ghost stories than the recipient.
Another example: I've been camping in the same woods with the same fool friends for 30 years. We're nice people, but we're...an acquired taste. And our annual camping date used to be around Halloween.
So, around 2015 my husband and I were giving motorcycle camping a try, up the ridge from the usual spot. We are completely alone in a deserted campground...nowhere near, I might add, the Northwest Coast. In fact, we're slightly south of Indianapolis. So imagine my surprise when an all-black suv (with blacked-out windows) roars up and steps right in front of us. An older couple get out, looking this way and that, and hand me this card:
[Fark user image 425x425]
They haven't even said hello. I'm pretty much speechless in mutual embarrassment, because after a moment of questioning, I discover that these south-of-Indianapolis Sasquatch sightings go back roughly 20 years, about the time my 6'4" idiot friend discovered Ghillie suits and insisted on wearing one every year:
[Fark user image 425x531]
I pulled up the photo and tried to explain, but their eyes glazed over, they turned around, got in their creepy suv, and roared off without saying goodbye.
Seriously, folks, I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yum here, but Bigfoot doesn't live south of Indianapolis. I apologize for my idiot friends and any confusion we might have caused.

This guy, however:
[Fark user image 425x566]

Catsquatch is out there. And if you don't fill up his mug with butt drugs, there's no telling what he might do.

💀


are you talking about Morgan County, such as Monrovia? The Sasquatch legends there abound. Whole posse of friends went hunting, they tried to get me to go, I said Uh UH. The woods behind my friends house was spooky as hell, with a lot of weird rituals going on back there. One of my friends came back and said there were bones of a dog there.

No flipping way did I ever tempt fate by exploring those woods with the strange noises eminating
 
2019-10-31 12:09:16 PM  
1 vote:

Jake Havechek: Correction: glass wall was on my right side when I was facing the TV.


well now I don't believe any of it!!11!
 
2019-10-31 11:41:12 AM  
1 vote:
Here's a thread I wrote. (The malaise of the modern writer.)
 
2019-10-31 11:23:16 AM  
1 vote:
hiredgoonz:

Must. Not.  Cannot. Resist.  B-ahhh!

it also seems strange to run across fiber trunks run under this river, in the middle of the woods.
The shortest path between two commercial opportunities is the straightest line you can make.


On the other side of the river, same fiber line, actually called AT&T about this to try and figure out what was up...they didn't know, but were very concerned about why I wanted to know...

(a) Wouldn't you be concerned by some rando's interest in your employer's multi-million dollar and largely unprotected infrastructure investment?

(b) "they didn't know": ATT couldn't find their business plan ass with both hands.
 
2019-10-31 11:21:17 AM  
1 vote:

Honest Geologist: hiredgoonz: ObscureNameHere: Jerseysteve22: What happened to the guy from Maine who went into the woods to investigate something weird? Is he still around? I forgot what year that story was from. 2012ish?

Never posted a follow-up as far as I know. Also, don't think that login showed up ever again in a thread.

Well, it was either true and something bad happened, or he was damn committed to the act, excellent story either way:

https://www.fark.com/comments/7408886/​80387820#c80387820

Username was Tharkin, had been around five years before that story.

For some reason I seem to recall from a previous year's thread that he had posted comments in other, unrelated threads after the turkeyfeathers incident. I have not investigated personally.

Not sure which is more worrying, that he never came back or that he came back and never spoke again of what happened.


Ah, you're right, mentioned here:

https://www.fark.com/comments/8913597​/​99456843#c99456843

Only took the time to verify one of them:

https://www.fark.com/comments/7609705​/​82728787#c82728787
 
2019-10-31 5:03:11 AM  
1 vote:
https://youtu.be/njI5Qo0WAqc

The embed thingie no workie
 
2019-10-31 2:40:22 AM  
1 vote:
I asked where son #2 was (probably 12 at the time), I was told he was in the small pool that we had.
I walked to the side door that overseas the pool and looked out. And saw him. Face down in the pool. Not moving.
And as a parent, you ask yourself...Do I wait? Do I run out and jump into the pool clothes and all? Do I yell for someone?
 
2019-10-31 1:08:08 AM  
1 vote:

a particular individual: 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.


I would read it.
 
2019-10-31 1:03:22 AM  
1 vote:

Resident Muslim: "...and that's when I realized I had given her my real name and number!"

/I'm going for shorts this year, it seems :)


Why not? Those can be pretty cool. Heck, Netflix has a series based off of two sentence horror stories.
 
2019-10-31 12:50:53 AM  
1 vote:
Walker: Walker: ...I might tell you about one of those later in the thread.

Please do!
 
2019-10-31 12:39:08 AM  
1 vote:

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!
 
2019-10-30 7:14:24 PM  
1 vote:
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 5:08:27 PM  
1 vote:

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 4:37:48 PM  
1 vote:

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 3:47:54 PM  
1 vote:

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


Hiya Mapes.  Long time no see.
 
2019-10-30 3:42:31 PM  
1 vote:

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


Good is relative but yeah, weird at least
 
2019-10-30 3:31:57 PM  
1 vote:
It's about time!

Goddamn users with their "problems" and software "requirements," still had a chance to look for this regularly...
 
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