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(Fark)   It's almost time kids. It's Fark's annual "Scary Story Thread" a day early due to the weekend. Don't miss it. Don't forget to wear your mask.The clock is ticking, it's almost time. Silver Shamrock   ( divider line
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4062 clicks; posted to Main » on 30 Oct 2009 at 2:23 PM (11 years ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook

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2009-10-31 6:22:30 AM  
One afternoon I was hiking in the woods with the love of my life. We came to the top of the hill and there was a golf course. The sunset was starting to get pretty, so we laid in the grass on the downrange side of a hill on the golf course to watch the clouds turn colors.

As we were laying there, we began to hear the most awful screams. They were far off in the distance at first. I looked it her to ask if I were just imagining it, but clearly heard it too. It grew closer. It became louder. It was clearly a male voice, and it was clearly screaming for all it's worth in sheer agony. Then there was a low rumbling sound. The screams got really close, it sounded like it was coming right at us.

Then out of the woods on the road the threads its way through the golf course to a private neighborhood comes a white pickup truck. Followed by another white pickup truck.. followed by another, then another then another.. then a white van. The van seemed to be the source of the screams. Not screams of anger or insanity, but what seemed to be the wail of someone being tortured in the worst ways imaginable. The van was followed by more trucks one right after another, driving close enough to keep other traffic from merging with them. I lost count at over 70 trucks, I think it was more than that. Then came cars. There were over 115 vehicles in the motorcade all together. It took them a full 15 minutes or more to roll by. It was so disturbing we laid low on the hill and just watched them roll by. It was twilight by the time they had all passed, we completely missed the rest of the sunset.

We were sitting far enough away that I couldn't make out any of the occupants, nor the license plates, nor had we any inclination to get any closer to try and see more. What was clear was that they were nearly all American makes of vehicles, they were all without exception white, they were traveling as a caravan or motorcade in a close group for such a large number, and they were transporting a guy who sounded like he was being tortured or worse.

There was never so much as a word about it in the news.
2009-10-31 6:40:43 AM  
Ghosts are parasites on the living.
There are no biological processes to renew energy, no matter form to store energy, and no neurons to process new information.

Ghosts remain attached to a living thing in the home or a tree near the home.
Ghosts can latch onto a human and leech off "potentiality energy" (5th directional energy) to enable themselves to continue existing without dissipating. Think of them as weak memories with weak personalities with enough gumption to persist after the host organism has died.

A ghost cannot travel far from its living host organism unless it attaches itself to someone that is mobile.
A ghost cannot process new information without hijacking a semi-intelligent being's neurons (like a mouse or a pet or an insect or a human).
If the host organism is killed, the ghost has to attach to a new living organism shortly afterward (ghosts cannot store energy so it has to be pretty quick). Some ghosts are able to utilize bathroom mildew, algae, wood fungus, termites, and even dust mites as partial hosts, but these organisms are not sentient can thusly do not allow the ghost to process new information so the ghost will act out in known action cycle loops without any creative or deductive variations. Since the ghost leeches off potentiality, these organisms perish far more easily and quicker than would be expected with the trade-off being suspiciously "human-type awareness" actions from these host organisms as the ghost treats them as "potentiality batteries" to power up and drain as needed.

By the way, if you want to get rid of your local ghosts, the easiest way to demolish it is to mentally "spike" it. When you see a ghost you are seeing the potentiality leech in false perspective (akin to holding your hand flat at the right distance for a photograph of you to be holding a tiny live horse in your palm). For you to see the ghost, the ghost has to be leeching potential energy off you at that instant. Note that the ghost can also leech off your energy without you seeing it.

Once you can see the ghost (or are aware of the ghost's presence), then you can hurt it easily. Remember that you are alive and it is not chemically functional. Your potentiality life force continues to function while the ghost's is basically akin to an echo pretending to be alive. Your force is greater and its is limited by the capacity to leech (faster leeching skills equals a more powerful ghost) potentiality off a living being and store that in simpler organisms like household fungus or insects or undiscovered vermin or pets or humans that it has attached itself onto).

Firstly focus on a spike of variable size, a solid cone of mental force, jutting from your mind pointing into the core of the ghost (hitting imaginary vital ghost organs is not really purposeful as the only thing that really is important is the mental potentiality waveform of the ghost itself). The ghost has no solid organs, has no brain or heart anymore, just the memory of those things. What you are trying to do is pump anti-potentiality into the ghost. Once confronted repeatedly by a mental spiking in this form, the ghost should begin to retreat into another host organism or flee back towards its desired host organism.

What is "anti-potentiality" you ask? Well gravity is one 5th-directional angular form of anti-potentiality which only weakly bothers ghosts. Everything falls toward gravitational centers. Light is a weak 5th-directional form of positive potentiality (the source of all life on Earth). Thermal energy is a randomized potentiality form in the 3-directional spacetime which is usually measured by potentiality density. A non-sentient lifeform usually exists in a variable potentiality curve. A sentient lifeform with no concept of the future or past usually is a potentiality leech that devours beings with neutral potentiality. A sentient lifeform with the ability to remember a portion of their past is also generally a potentiality leech off the neutral and negative potentiality lifeforms. A sentient lifeform with the ability to remember some of the past and predict semi-accurately future events is a being with overall positive potentiality because it is no longer chained into a highly predictable existence. A sentient lifeform that knows of the past and predicts the future semi-accurately and also works with other sentient similar lifeform to plan out a desired future has a much higher positive potentiality (although this also invites a highly negative potentiality if abused solely for personal gain) than most other lifeforms.

Anti-Potentiality is just a tiny hypersphere (4th-directional space) of available directional angles and spin vectors at variable simultaneous displacement speeds. It is also "death to the dead". For a living organism it is the moment that the watery flesh bag of your body ceases functioning as a meaty chemical soup of purpose for whatever personal reason and then stops hosting your potentiality waveform. Your memories (cellular configurations of neurons) are hosted in your body. Your personality is mostly hosted in your body, but might have imprinted itself upon non-sentient organism in your living spaces or the area in which you died. The clever trick is forcing these lifeforms to take your memories and personality as their own as a persisting non-aware copy before you die. Some folks do this without even being aware of it. Some folks imprint themselves by forced trauma events into other living humans (living "Psychic Vampires") who are so kindhearted that they fail to defend themselves against this intrusion.

(continuing in another post)

2009-10-31 6:56:33 AM  
Hahahaha! WTF, Gridlock?

Whatever drug that is, keep taking it.
2009-10-31 7:45:44 AM  

the cat with hands

That was awesome.
2009-10-31 7:53:23 AM  
(continuing from previous post)

Generally the living who preserved themselves by enforcing memory fragment copies in the local fungi and algae and dust mites (note that dust mites can breed and thusly continue to persist a micro memory fragment for many generations afterward so long as they do not linger on another living sentient being and copy off a tiny bit of that person's "soul") or bugs have generally made non-functional backup copies of their potentiality waveform.

In order for a ghost to persist as a conscious potentiality leech, it has to succor itself with the potentiality of a person or dog or bird or rat (pretty much anything with neurons and some capacity for thought and changing its local living space). Ghosts cannot really form good new memories (a fragment of human conscious thought hijacking a living being of non-similar mental capacity like a bird results in muddled messy thinking unless it can be dispersed amongst many simple creatures like in a pet store or a chicken farm). People are best imprinted upon and when having done so, the result is a bit of trauma (a neurally isolated portion of the brain) which can also be a great psychic hijack spot for a ghost fragment to inhabit. In order to imprint new memories or conceptual ideas onto simple lifeforms, the ghost has to hijack a human or it will linger like an old bit of movie footage reenacting lines and motions without awareness or alteration coontil the host organisms die as well as a unit).

The standard person that is a "Ghost Host" of an unwanted dead person has been traumatized enough times to have portions of their brain isolated and thusly exploited for hijacking. The ghost cannot think unless you are not using a section of your brain. An isolated neural loop of trauma is perfect for a ghost to leech off of. The human brain does not want to remember severe trauma, so it neurally isolates it and ignores it. The ideal "Ghost Host" is a person suffering severe emotional trauma, but can also be a person who has suffered severe logical trauma or severe instinctual trauma.

Anyway, enough galloping around the point of the psychic spike with tidbits of the greater picture. In order to kill or disperse a ghost you need to use your living energy to erase their memories in the local simple non-sentient host organisms (no soul of their own so they gladly invite a tidbit of human soul to come and stay for awhile). First, mentally spike the ghost as I noted before. This will disrupt their potentiality leech waveform. If you can see the ghost, you can hurt the ghost. The ghost can only reform from whatever host organism it is currently leeching off from (as the neural processes for doing so are kept in a trauma section of their brain). The ghost will then draw upon the memories it has by tapping their memory copies on the local non-sentient lifeforms. During this time it can be trapped.

You are alive, therein you can write or erase "ghost memories" from all local non-sentient lifeforms at will far better than any withered copy of a once living human. Focus you attention to imagine the physical dimensions of your skull. Now mentally push outward from there a great expanding bubble from the center of your brain stem. If you pull it back to a smaller diameter for a microsecond and then push back out, you should be able to mentally "feel" any conscious fragments that your living consciousness has touched. If you "feel" a non-sentient with a copy of a ghost memory fragment, the sensation will be like a "blip" or a flicker of "dull awareness" similar to running your finger through a bowl filled with motor oil. All it is really is a loop of severely tiny human thought (akin to a song that gets stuck in your head an annoys you until it goes away) in a being that has no real thoughts. The thought persists, but it is alone, has no purpose to the non-sentient organism and is TINY. It might be as little as a spoken phrase or a snippet of music or an emotion or a math equation. It does not really matter, but the more of these you erase, the less the ghost can use to draw conclusions from while hijacking a living neural process.

You can overwrite this the same way you read it. By forcing new memories onto it. Think of a new song or a new image or a new instinctual desire or just imagine incoherent noise. Once you've erased or altered this, the ghost will become less and less functional and more like a non-functional recording of a person endlessly reenacting a moment of life once lived like some purposeless ritual mindlessly performed. Note that in order to kill the ghost, you have to remove its ability to leech potentiality off a living thing. That trick is harder as killing the current host will probably not kill the ghost. An exceptionally long persisting ghost will have spread itself quite far and wide and figured out many new tricks for influencing the world around itself besides basic psychic copy tricks.

You are actually attacking a ghost in multiple locations all at once so you must be aware of this at all times. You may also be a partial ghost host (besides your own of course) at this point in time as well. In a way a ghost is like a big inflated ball with an active computer chip which senses RFID signals, rolling about a room of a living host ever-so-randomly, and when it nears a RFID chip with a recorded program or memory fragment, it reads this information, does its dance, and then rolls in another random direction. It also saps off potentiality from other living beings near it to enable other actions (like adding a vector displacement force to a solid object) or to imprint a thought which results other people committing desired actions for the ghost.

Wipe out the spread memories (within the living non-sentient organisms). Wipe out the power drain functions (not happening visibly on this 3-directional spacetime zone). Wipe out the thought processes of the ghost (within the living host's trauma centers). The result will usually be a very gone ghost. Some ghosts have learned how to spread themselves out amongst the living for greater power, more redundancy, and the ability to persist in an easier form (within the continually meeting living human nodes), but usually the "Gang Ghost" tends not to bother the living with haunting when human legal methods are far quicker.

Anti-potentiality for a ghost is a sapping of purpose. Shades of "losing the will to live". Too tired to get out of bed, is also too tired to get out and haunt. Think of all of those tedious excruciatingly boring moments of your life when you could have done anything over what you were doing then. Focus on that, spike the ghost, drive those thoughts into the core of the ghost, sap the ghost of purpose, delete its function for existing. The ghost saps potentiality energy. The ability to create, to make, to shape, to invent, to imagine, to build, to commit an effort to a result which will last. That is potentiality and purpose. As a sentient lifeform you can alter your local space to improve your future. A ghost saps that spirit until you become nothing but a pointless fool twittering about in failure and frustration. It saps this by siphoning off your potential and feeding it to its current host or the non-sentient lifeforms around itself.

The trauma sections of host memory that the ghost exploits for its own mental processes, to a person telepathically aware, appears to be a tiny hard ball of rotating crushing thought. A mental probe spike into another person's brain will feel this rigid ball of trauma like a rotting orange crusted in metal. You can jab and stab at it and not open it up with any great effort. The trick is that the ball must rotate, while it spins, it is solid. Stop the spinning and the ball begins to crumble. Reshape your thoughts into a vise. Clamp that ball of trauma and lock it into place solidly. While the other person's thoughts orbit the ball, mesh them in an electric net of irksome dullness, and then slap at them with incoherent noise in every direction (do not stir them and do not spin them) and then spatter them to-and-fro randomly with a slap paddle of noisy random boredom until they are diminished and mixed into a void of pointlessness. You should also find these trauma zones in your own mind and destroy them in the same manner until you are no longer a suitable "hosting a ghost that is not your own" sense.

Each assault in this manner results in a ghost that cannot reform itself while not harming the living human's ghost. You will mentally have expand your sphere (the balloon exercise I taught you earlier) to locate ghost memories to erase them and isolate trauma zones then destroy those trauma zones in all creatures with functional neural activity in your local zone. In this manner you will have removed the ghost's ability to sap life potentiality, removed as many ghost memory copies as you can find, and wiped out the ghost's ability to conceptually think in any fashion. Do all three methods and a simple ghost can never reform. Networked human node ghosts are a whole larger problem to deal with and should never be handled without an psychically aware large crowd of humans ready to enact as a team the removal of a "Gang Ghost" spread over a large number of living humans and the animals that live near them.
2009-10-31 8:14:49 AM  

my buddy Will started crying and
i think he was muttering a prayer or something. We both started
running toward the door, but just then a section of the
roof colapsed on Will, so I stopped to help him but the thing just kept crawling toward us.
once the creature came near, it opened it jaws and spoke clearly


My brain says "no way" to these mysteries, but my heart now tries to convince me otherwise. Because it seems that I am "haunted" by a very special and sweet ghost. An example:

Whenever my mom would misplace something, my husband would often find it. Instead of telling her, he'd often just leave it for her to find in a very obvious place such as the middle of the kitchen counter or dining room table. It became a kind of running gag between them.

He passed away suddenly several years ago. My mom says he still finds lost things for her. Her pruning shears AWOL? "Aw, Nick will find them for me!" Seems he always does too. :) He seems to still look out for me in intangible, almost indescribable ways, and I'm not complaining.

Sleep paralysis: I started to get it as a kid. It wasn't that there were shadows or anything like that to add to the fear. Just that it was SO hard to break through it and that, in itself, was plenty scary for me.

As an adult I had a job where I worked graveyard shift monitoring a network I knew almost nothing about. I was the only person in the building. It had no remote monitoring, so the ONLY thing I was there to do was call someone if I got an alarm. In two years I only had one alarm. Stay awake? HAH! The alarms were also audible, so I'd nap in front of the terminal knowing that the alarms would rouse me. But sometimes I'd start hearing murmured voices while I napped. I would be convinced that the day shift had arrived and I was about to get busted big time for sleeping on the job. It took every ounce of panicked energy I had to break through the sleep paralysis, only to find I was alone as usual. Very annoying!
2009-10-31 8:40:14 AM  
I know I missed the bulk of the party last night, but I wanted to add my story.

When I was 13 my grandparents bought an old farmhouse on about 30 acres way out in the country. The home had started as a 4 bedroom cabin around 1805 and had been built on numerous times since then. The house was a very large network of poorly planned rooms, all in various states of disrepair. I spent the bulk of that summer helping to renovate the house and care for the massive grounds.

The front lawn between the horseshoe shaped driveway was easily the size of a football field. Every two weeks that summer I would be forced to mow it with a small push mower. The process would take all day.

During that summer I began having a recurring nightmare. I would be mowing the lawn as usual when I'd stop and look up into the attic window of the home. Out from the darkness, and clearly visible through the half-broken panes would appear the figure of a woman. I could clearly make out her white, sunken face, her black and white striped hair, and the mohagony flowing gown she was waring.

With no warning she, and another figure of an old man that I had not previously seen in the window would fly towards me. The only way I can describe it is as if a freight train was bearing down on me, deafened by the most blood curtling shriek I can imagine. The woman's deep sunken black eyes were locked on me the entire time, face contorted in the most hateful appearance I could imagine.

The second figure was very much the same. An old man with thin white hair, and an appearance of only being skin and bones, followed closely behind the woman.

These two figures bore down on my and then passed me on either side, disappearing into the ground.

I had this dream every night for a week before I told my dad about it. I was 13 and a little old for dreams to be scaring me, but it was becoming too much. He sat and listened as I explained my dream in detail, and then asked me to write down as detailed a description of the woman and man as possible.

I did as he asked, and later that evening my parents called me into the kitchen to have a talk with them, and to bring my description. When I sat down my father was already holding a piece of paper. My father explained that the second was written by my grandfather.

My grandfater had written a note about strange occurances that had been happening since they moved into the old farmnouse. The activities you would come to expect, things being moved, strange sounds, but one thing stood out to me. My father had begun seeing the figure of a woman, standing over his bed and whispering to someone unseen. His description of the woman matched mine perfectly.

A few years went by and both my grandparents passed away. My family was tasked with cleaning the old house and taking stock of everyrhint we found.

I was sent into the cellar where my grandparents had stored tubs of books. Keep in mind that this place, for obvious reasons, creeped me out already. The room was large, and lit only with a single 40 watt bulb.

I took a fwe steps into the room when the door closed behind me. I quickly tried the knob, but it wouldn't turn, just my luck. About then is when I noticed the temperature in the cellar had dropped about 20 degrees. I could see my own breath as I looked around the room to see if I could find something to dislodge the door.

I was digging through a box of tools trying to find a hammer, anything, that I could open the door with when I began to hear deep breaths being taken behind me. The hair stood on the back of my neck, I instantly got goosebumps, and my stomach turned in a knot. I slowly turned toward the breathing to see the old man from my dreams, standing there with an arm extended pointing a bony finger at me. His black eyes were locked onto me... I apparently had his full attention.

Sweat started dripping down my face as I stood there paralyzed... I had nowhere to run to, we just stood there staring at each other.

Finally, I felt the courage to break the silence... so I cleared my throat and said "Hello handsome! You're a good looking fellow, do you know that? People laugh at you, people hate you, but why do they hate you? Because... they are jealous. Look at that boyish face. Look at that sweet smile. Do you wanna talk about physical strength? Do you want to talk about sheer muscle? Do you want to talk about the Olympian ideal? You are a God. And listen to me, you are not evil. You... are... good."
2009-10-31 10:36:21 AM  
It began with my four-year-old daughter screaming at something she had seen in the living room. She said it was a black cloud and that it had crossed the room and disappeared into a corner. We dismissed it until my wife's sister visited a few days later. She said the cloud reappeared from the same corner and enveloped her two little girls. Later that same day, my wife saw the cloud come from the corner and wrap itself around her. She said it was suffocating, hot and stank of burning meat. The cloud seemed to only manifest itself around women and girls. Unfortunately for my sons, males were not spared the haunting.

The front door of the old house squeaked loudly and no amount of WD40, graphite, or silicone gel would quiet it. Now, to get the layout of the house, one has to understand that it was built into the side of a hill. The front door faced the West and one would enter there onto the second floor, which is where the living area, dining room, kitchen and bathrooms all were. The bedrooms and laundry room were on the first floor, which could be accessed by the East facing back door.

One night the boys, aged eight and six, heard the front door open so they went to investigate. In the open front door they could see an odd green colored mist. When they went to the door to see where the glow was originating, it disappeared.

Up to this point, I had seen nothing so I was still somewhat skeptical of all these stories. That changed on the last night of the haunting.

We were asleep downstairs, and I was dreaming. I dreamt that I walked into our bedroom, but there was no bedroom furniture there. It was furnished as a living room and on the sofa sat the most beautiful redheaded woman I had ever seen. Now my wife, beautiful in her own right, is a brunette. But in this dream, I knew the redhead to be my wife.

She was crying. She turned and looked at me through blackened, tear-filled and fear filled eyes. I should have had pity in my heart for this woman, but all I felt was rage. She cowered into an arm of the sofa and I started toward her to continue the beating I knew she deserved.

It was when I heard a voice that I realized that the dream had been silent up to that point. In my dream I knew that this was because the wife was deaf. The voice I had heard was that of my six-year-old. I turned and looked to the doorway to see my real-life son standing there in clothes I had never seen before. He was wearing black pants and a long-sleeved red pullover shirt. He was soaking wet from head to toe and his skin appeared ashen and lifeless. Again, I felt no love for my family, only a burning rage.

The boy looked up to me and said, "Dad?" He too, had a look of abject fear in his eyes, but he continued, "Dad? Help me!" I turned toward him and raised my clenched fist and struck the child square in the face.

Suddenly I awoke sitting up in bed, my wife sitting up as well, screaming at me, "What the Hell is that?" I then realized that there was a fight going on in the living room above my head. Two men were yelling at each other, throwing furniture around and braking glass. I jumped from my bed and ran upstairs. As my foot fell onto the carpeted hallway of the second story, all was silent.

No one was there. The windows were intact, the furniture upright. But the door stood open shrouded in an iridescent green glow. Drawn, I approached the door and looked out onto the darkened street. There was nothing. All was quiet. I returned to my wife and my room to not sleep. We sat in silence awaiting the dawn.

And dawn did come. As it happened, it was October 31st. I stood on my front porch drinking my coffee, trying to rationalize my dream. And then I heard it. A chill locked into my spine as I heard my six-year-old son say, "Dad?". Scared, I turned and looked down the hill. My son said, "Dad? Help me!" I approached as the boy was using a stick to try to dig something out of the ground. It was a strip of black corduroy. I went to help him, but pulled him away when I saw the flash of white bone. I grabbed my son and ran into the house.

The police dug up the body of the little boy. He was six when he died. He was wearing black corduroy pants and a long sleeved red pullover shirt.

My brother is now a detective on our local police department. Although the have a lengthy file on the boy's father, they remain unable to locate him or his beautiful, deaf, redheaded wife.

/True story

//people still rent that house

///No one has ever reported anything unusual since that Halloween.

2009-10-31 10:48:16 AM  
Farkers - I've been a faithful lurker for a long time. But this thread made me take the time to get a SN and join.

Some of the best spooky stories I've ever read. Always good stuff here. You guys rock.
2009-10-31 10:55:19 AM  

Gridlock: Ghostl-garrblll

imgur.comView Full Size
2009-10-31 11:03:01 AM  
One day I was at a Mariners game--Afternoon, sunny, thousands of people.

Anyway, I was sitting there eating my peanuts and I hear this voice over the sound of the crowd calling "Daryl!".

I quickly looked around, but couldn't see where it was coming from. So I turned back to the game. Just as I was getting comfortable, I heard the yell again, this time louder and closer "DARYL!".

I quickly stood up and scanned the crowd. Nothing.

I was beginning to get a little freaked out. The voice seemed so urgent, and it wasn't a voice I recognized.

Then, one more time I heard it "DAAAARRRYYLL!!!". It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

I shot up and, not knowing what else to do, yelled back: "Look! I don't know who you are, but my name's not Daryl!!!"

I never heard the voice again.
2009-10-31 11:14:16 AM  
I had an experience that I will never forget about 10 years ago. My friend's house was always kinda weird. You'd leave and when you came home the basement light would have turned itself on. The basement was always kinda creepy, it had this little room towards the front of the house filled with dirt and bricks. Someone had spray painted a smiley face very poorly on the bricks in there, which made it even creepier. One day night we decided to investigate the basement by taking a few pictures with a Polaroid camera. At the time we were blown away by the all the "orbs" that showed up, which I realized years later was just the basement being dusty.
After my friend and his mom had both gone to bed on the second floor, I was up by myself watching television. I decided to call it a night, turned the tv off, stretched out on the couch to go to sleep. Then something happened that I will never ever forget. I heard heavy footsteps walk up the basement stairs then stop when it got to the kitchen. I don't think I have ever moved so fast in my life to leap up to turn the light and tv on. There was no way that it could have been my friend or his mom because I would have heard them come downstairs and it was way too loud to be their west highland terrier.

I told my friend about it in the morning and he told me how another friend who he hadn't told about the basement being weird had saw something float up the stairs earlier in the year.
After they had moved his mom told us that she occasionally would smell cigar smoke on the landing between the basement and kitchen. I've been tempted to go ask the new owners if they've had anything weird happen
2009-10-31 11:33:20 AM  
Got one myself. I was having trouble sleeping and when I turned my head I thought I saw a skull. Of course this helped a lot, and I started hearing noises. I started falling asleep with my eyes open when I saw a nurse carrying a baby. Now the weird part was, it was a black nurse carrying a baby with a really thick southern accent, making it seem like she was a slave almost. And she had cried out "Please sir, let me keep the baby".

And then she appears in front of me, near my desk, but as a shadow. Now I have a computer monitor up here and there's a window behind it, so I normally see a shadow. All of a sudden, the lady merges into the shadow and it emits a high pitched yelling and looks like a howling dog. I try to make a sound but nothing was coming out of my mouth. I tried kicking it and the shadow disappeared. I did not sleep for the rest of the night, and it was about 3 am.
2009-10-31 11:50:22 AM  
Back around 1978, when I was 8 or 9, we lived in a old stone farmhouse in the country, near Elkader, Iowa. It was built in the 1870s, I think. I don't believe in ghosts, but the whole family, myself included, saw and heard things almost on a daily basis. You'd see foggy black amorphous things floating down the upstairs hallway. Doors would open & close themselves. Things would move. You'd hear low whisperings that sounded as if several people at once were whispering something, but you never could make out just what.

After we'd lived there a few months, the landlord told us the guy who built the place hung himself in the barn. And later, in the 1950s, another guy murdered his wife, and committed suicide with a shotgun in an upstairs bedroom.

We lived there for around a year or so. About 25 years later, I interviewed for a job in the area, and I wanted my wife to see the old place, so we drove around until we found it. There was a guy out in the yard, and he was a friendly sort. He invited us in. The house seemed smaller than I remembered as a kid. Of course I didn't want to freak him or his wife out, so I kept my trap shut about the odd goings-on. Before long though, he started saying things like "Yeah, this house has a lot of character... My wife hears things." Before we left, he'd told us about hearing the whispering, and footsteps upstairs. And being awoke in the middle of the night by a loud boom inside the house... And about returning home from town to find his appliances in the kitchen fried, the fridge door open, and the food strewn about the kitchen.

So there's my story. Still don't believe in ghosts, tho.
2009-10-31 11:56:05 AM  
Damn, just noticed this here now! Oh well here's the post I was going to post today.

Reading this thread is my favorite Halloween Tradition!
As usual, here's the links to threads from previous years, so you can relive your

favorite stories from years past, or find and repost your darkest memories.






Guess it's still good. Just a little late.
2009-10-31 12:03:47 PM  

Tom_Slick: steveurkel: i am pretty sure i have been to this place.
/grew up in south ga.
Valdosta Area?
This place was west of town towards Berlin, there was also an old church also in the cotton fields that walls were supposed to bleed. I wnet there but it never happened.

My stepfather was born and raised in Warner Robbins and played ball at Valdosta or whatever the college was called back then. I asked him about these stories and he said he had not heard of them.

He did mention a haunted bridge on 75 near Tifton. He'd heard several versions of the story but it basically goes like this... a car full of girls were headed to the beach or somewhere for spring break. In some versions they runaway and/or were drinking. The wreck and all are killed. You ride under it or over it you can hear what sounds like screaming.

They've expanded the road and the sounds are now gone. Its acoustics have changed and the effect is no longer there. The stories are pretty typical of morality tales. Wonder what they'll use now though.
2009-10-31 12:23:30 PM  
Thanks GendoIkari. I was going to ask if someone could do that.
2009-10-31 12:25:32 PM  

Your story creeped me out, goose bumps and chills and the whole works. Wow.
2009-10-31 12:30:50 PM  
I used to work at a vet clinic and I was the one who came in on the weekends and at night to clean up and take care of the puppies and kitties boarding there. I always had a feeling of something following me and I actually heard it, a rattling, padding sound. I was never afraid of it, it as a little comforting. I told the receptionist there about it and she told me it was just the "ghost dog" following me around. I guess I was hearing the dog tags and the little puppy dog feet behind me. After that, I always said hello to it when I heard it.
2009-10-31 12:42:29 PM  
I have had only one weird experience in my life. While I dismiss ghosts as imagination gone wild, I've never been able to completely explain a candle's shadow moving on command like I saw in high school.

We were gathered for a friend's birthday and an older member of the group (I'll call her Trudy) produced a ring inscribed with Egyptian heiroglyphs. She said that the ring allowed her to summon spirits and suggested that we do a seance.

So Trudy had us sit in a circle and a candle was grabbed from a nearby shelf. The candle sat in a shallow, star-shaped glass holder. The star-shaped shadow fell on my side of the candle and was fairly stationary. Trudy began the summoning (or whatever she would have called it).

I don't remember what she said exactly, but it didn't take long until she claimed a spirit was among us. She then had it do two things to prove that it was there.

First, she asked it to move the shadow of the candle back and forth. Right after she finished her sentence, the shadow danced back and forth moving a couple of inches to the side, back and forth in a very rhythmic, determined manner. The shadow then went back to its original position and stopped.

Shocked, I passed it off as someone blowing on the candle and my imagination making the movement seem more deliberate than it really was. With no proof to the contrary, I still maintain that it was more my head than anything else.

Then Trudy asked the spirit to move the shadow again, asking it to center the shadow on the candle. Remember that the shadow's normal position was for it to lie on my side of the candle holder. As soon as she stopped speaking the shadow snapped directly underneath the candle holder, holding that position for at least ten seconds coontil she said for it to stop). I didn't have the presence of mind to look at the flame's behavior during all of this, unfortunately, but the shadow moving to center itself on the candle holder was beyond any explanation I could come up with.

At that point I started to ask (in my head) that everyone be protected from whatever it was. I was still somewhat religious then so I supposed I was praying. A few seconds later, Trudy said that she wouldn't be able to continue because the spirit had left (or something like that). She asked someone across the table whether they had done or thought something to make it leave. They said no; she never asked me anything.

And that was the end of it. If anyone knows of a common magic trick or trick candles that could produce those effects, I'd love to hear about them. Or if anyone knows of any significance of the heiroglyph-covered ring (beyond the Book of Death and whatnot), I'd be interested in hearing something.
2009-10-31 1:27:07 PM  
my .02, late to the party, as usual.

i suffer from sleep paralysis. It started when i moved away from home and into a dorm room during my first year of university in 2001. The first time it happened, i 'woke up' knowing i was dead, in my casket. I could hear my mom crying and my dad telling her that "it will be okay, she didn't suffer". Strangely enough, i could hear the sound of a dog's toenails clacking on the floor -- my dog Gunner was walking around the floor underneath my casket, and i could hear him sniffing and whining. I knew that the dog knew i was "alive" and if i could wiggle a finger, my parents would, too, and they would save me from being buried alive. scary stuff.

sleep paralysis was horrifying and inexplicable, until my aunt described similar things happening to her. In my neck of the woods, people call them "hags" and once i got used to them and understood what they are and what causes them, i became less and less terrified of them.

sidenote-- the floor that i lived on in my first year was the site of a suicide ten years or so before i got there. Strange things would always happen in my room, which shared a wall with the suicide room, now converted into an office and a supply closet. I would wake up to th sound of my stereo blasting music at 3AM, or i'd go to sleep with the curtains closed, only to find them open in the morning. I would hear strange sounds at night, and, jokingly would tell the poltergeist (who i named "charlie") to go to sleep. A few years after i graduated, i came back to the campus bar with some friends. We got to talking with some freshmen who lived on our old floor. One girl said that her room was haunted. I asked her which one, and she replied "131B" --- my old room. Not knowing that i had lived there, she jokingly said "It's okay, though, Charlie would never hurt anyone, he just likes to cause trouble".

I had never told anyone that that was what i had named my "ghost"

anywhoo, one more creepy thing and i'm done for another year.

when sleep paralysis sets in nowdays, i try hard at the first sign to "break" the paralysis by wiggling my toes, fingers, or turning over in bed. Sometimes, when that doesn't work, i just go with the flow, go deeper under, and try to go back to sleep.

I have a dog named Lua. We have had her since she was a puppy, and the ONLY times in the three years that we have had her that we have heard her barking was when there was another dog outside. She goes insane, howling and snorting. Only for dogs. A cat or a mosse (i'm canadian) can walk right on my the window, and she pays it no heed, she doesn't make a sound.

One day, i was napping on the couch downstairs with Lua, who was asleep in the crook of my arm, with her nose under my chin. I felt the hag coming on, and tried to "break" it, but couldn't. so i let it go. The room got cold. Then i heard something that scared the bejeesus out of me.

I couldn't see it, but i could hear something very large and very big at the top of the stairs. I could hear the sound of dog's toenails clacking on the wooden stairs, slowly coming towards me. I couldn't move.

I knew two things for certain: Something very big was coming to hurt me, and i could not move.

I heard it descend the stairs and frantically tried to wake my body up. I could feel the back of the couch press in where its body pressed against it. It was snuffling and snorting and it began to growl -- a low, soft belly growl. I opened my eyes, not wanting to go out like a coward, wanting to see whatever it was (my brain told me "GIANT WOLF"). I Could see a dark shadow slowly coming around the side of the couch, toward me. I could smell reeking dogstench when

Lua started to howl deeply, and bark and twitch and snort and shake in her sleep. Her body was shivering, her lips were drawn away, and i could see her teeth. The hair was up on her hackles, and her eyes were completely shut.

her barking was stimulation enough to bring me completely out of my sleep, where i was alone -- save for Lua -- in my basement. she growled and snorted once or twice more before going completely back to sleep.

coincidence, i guess. but it completely freaked me out. Haven't had a hag since.

tl;dr: i named a ghost something and someone gave it the same name, i have sleep paralysis, my dog saved me from a giant demon dream dog.
2009-10-31 1:30:23 PM  
I get sleep paralysis. Haven't for a while but when I worked third shift I got it a lot. I work tech support and was on the fourth floor in a cubicle by myself all night long. all the lights off but the ones at my desk. I'd prop my feet up and rest when nobody was calling.

I can't tell you how many times I would be sitting there and suddenly be unable to speak or move or breathe and see the entire floor on fire and demons coming to get me and ghosts flying around me and such. Geez. I hated that.
2009-10-31 1:47:42 PM  
Pointlessly late, but I got to write it...mostly just for my own psyche.

When I was about 7 or 8, my mom and I visited my cousin in Gainesville, Fl. Well, after visiting with my cousin and his mom in their apartment, I asked if I could go to the apartment complex's pool and swim. I learned to swim when I was really, really young (like 4) and so I never really needed a lot of supervision. My mom said it was find and we went down to the pool, and while I swam she sat in the shade at a picnic table outside of the pool area...maybe about 20-30 yards away.

After swimming for a while, a man came and swam too. I don't remember anything about what he looked like-he was just a man. Well, somehow he started being near me in the pool and I was splashing him. Then it became this game where I would splash him and then he would grab me and push me away. Then again, maybe I thought this was a game and it wasn't.

At some point then, I was splashing him (where was my mom??) and the instead of pushing me away-he grabbed me. He grabbed me firmly and held me under the water.

He held me under the water for a long, long time. He held me under for so long that I finally realized that this was no longer game or silliness, but that I was running out of air. And he kept holding me.

I freaked out. I kicked and punched, but of course when you are underwater these things do nothing. It seemed like an eternity and the more I struggled the harder he held me down. Finally, in what I remember as my last option, I scratched his arms and stomach HARD.

He pushed me away and when I broke the surface I got out of the pool and ran to where my mom was sitting. I was hysterical and told her what had happened, but she seemed to think I was over-reacting. She thought I was just horsing around and got spooked. I turned to point to the man, but he was out of the pool and walking away quickly-almost running.

We went back to the apartment and it wasn't until later that afternoon when I wouldn't calm down that it sunk in to her that I was serious. But, by then, there was nothing to do.

Looking back, I wonder if I thought it was a game and it wasn't. I think the guy got mad and in his temper did something to me, and when I got loose he fled.

/Bad story, I know, but it was scary and still is.
2009-10-31 1:50:41 PM  

Frosty_Icehole: I had these toys, can't remember the name of the line, but basically there were different sets of spacecraft parts and you could make different configurations with them. I had two spherical glow in the dark pieces from one of the sets, and as I lay there in torment trying to go to sleep, I notice them on the floor and my plan hits me. I put them on my eyes and squinted to keep them in place.

I bet that toy was called "Legions of Power", we had a set when I was a kid and did exactly the same thing with those glowing hemispheres...they even had a hole in the center that you could kinda see through.
2009-10-31 1:57:58 PM  
It's a cold snowy Christmas Eve in NJ.. 1992 or 93... I'm being forced to attend a midnight catholic mass with my parents and siblings, along with a few thousand other people, ugh! We are crammed in like sardines, no seats left, near the back of the church, standing... Trying NOT to draw attention to myself I attempt to mask my sneeze into my arm unleashing a very LOUD fart at the same time. I wanted to die. BRO/SIS are laughing/pointing at me, people turned around. OMG, I wanted to die.

Scary childhood memory: Dad took me to a movie theater (Brick TWN) to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (not sure which one) when I was whatever age, well not even 20 minutes into the movie we hear people screaming/scattering from the front part of the theater and stuff falling from the ceiling.. movie goes off/lights turn on, We were towards the back, my dad got me out of there fast, I remember hanging out in the parking lot watching firetrucks & ambulances, leaving after that... It turns out that too much snow/ice accumulated on the (flat) roof; causing parts of the ceiling/ducts to cave in.
2009-10-31 2:11:48 PM  
I shiat my pants at my mom's birthday bbq about 7 years ago.
2009-10-31 2:28:32 PM  
I'm sick of these sleep paralysis crap stories!

Not Scary:

I had a dream a few months ago that I was talking to my uncle (father's brother) and I mentioned to him that the 20th anniversary of my father's death was coming soon.

When I woke up I realized my dream was correct. My father died when I was 2 so I don't think about him that often. Spooooooooky.

Scary as fark:

My friends and I decided to go an explore the Letchworth Villiage Insane Asylum which is condemned if it hasn't already been torn down by now.

We entered one of the buildings from the rear, down some steps into a basement. The place was trashed from other teens before us. We found an old printing press and each took one of the letters that matched the first letter of our names.

Further in we found a staircase leading back up. At the top of the stairs were two doors, one leading right and the other leading left. The one to the right had a window, we could see light streaming from the ground floor windows. Nothing too interesting.

The door to the left had a large X spray painted red. When we tried to pull it open (yes it was a door that opened outwards towards us) we could only open it 2 or 3 inches. It was pitch, utter black inside. There was as strong clammy cold wind blowing out from it, but the door kept trying to pull shut.

Yeah we got the hell out of there pretty fast.

Another building we explored was creepy as hell but nothing really scary. It was just a half flooded, mouldering basement.

I'm the one in the stripes. Credit to my friend MJ for the pics :)

Second Scary Story:

Anyone familiar with the area of Letchworth will recognize the surrounding area of the Husdon Valley as being that most historical region just north of the Great City.

I lived almost directly across the Hudson from a town called Tarrytown - or, historically known as Sleepy Hollow.

A friend had come from NYC to visit, taking the train. The closest station was in Tarrytown. We were driving, hoping to put him on the last one back when we stopped at a traffic light. We had begun discussing the supernatural, specifically the many legends surrounding the very location we were heading to.

We waited for the light to change, growing more aware of the shrinking gap between the current time and the departure of the train.

We sat at that traffic signal for nearly 15 minutes before we got spooked and just ran the signal and took our chances. But that remains one of the most bizarre moments I can recall.
2009-10-31 2:41:39 PM  
A couple of strange experiences, make of them what you will.

#1: The first occurred several times in an old high-rise hotel which had been converted to apartments. The place was 8 stories tall with everything from 1,800 sq.ft. suites to "bachelor" apartments and though quite run-down, built like a brick, um, fortress.

I managed the place for a couple of years and nothing really gave me the creeps, not even the basement which had a lot of hidden rooms and according to rumors, tunnels leading to other buildings and a secret access to the alley above ground. As it was constructed during the Prohibition era, I didn't think much of it.

The building had fallen into neglect and disrepair over the years, as the population declined and businesses moved to larger cities in the region. There were easily 50 apartments which were uninhabitable for a variety of reasons, one because it had burned completely at some point in the 70's. Again, the place was so well constructed that as you walked down the hall toward that 5th floor apartment, you wouldn't notice anything amiss until you opened the outer vented hotel room door and found the inside door blistered from the heat, but intact, giving no clue that the apartment was nothing but pitch black char and ashes - like a burned down house dropped in the middle of a hotel.

No one seemed to know or remember what had happened to the occupant and at least during the time I was there, no one mentioned seeing or hearing anything strange. However, one day I went to the apartment of another tenant in that wing and as soon as I opened the fire door leading to those five apartments, I smelled violets. Not a complex perfume, just pure violets.

Had some lady been to visit the tenant I was going to see? Not likely - he never had visitors. Had Sherry, the only other woman on staff been down that hall for some reason? Nope it was her day off, and she wasn't exactly the perfume type. Was it me? I didn't think so - it was the middle of winter and that was a springtime scent and not something I owned.

So I turned around and walked back through the door and yep - there it was again. Very near a radiator and a window overlooking an empty and unused courtyard. I walked around in circles for a minute and yep, it was in this exact spot but not anywhere else.

Finally I shrugged it off and talked to the sole tenant living in that hallway, who confirmed that no one had been to see him for months. On the way back out, I could no longer smell anything except a faint rusty odor from the radiator.

From that day on, though, I'd smell that same sweet fragrance nearly every time I went down that hall, always in the same spot. I asked a few other staff members if they'd ever noticed anything odd, and one if the men grudgingly acknowledged that he'd sometimes smell flowers there, but it kind of creeped him out and he'd appreciate it if I didn't mention it to any of the other guys.

I never felt the presence of anyone there and never saw anything unusual, just the scent of dewy violets, which I'd describe as very young and fresh. I speculated that it may have been associated with the daughter of the man who had built the grand old hotel, as she was a very pampered only child who'd fallen ill and died in her youth, or it may have been any one of the hundreds of ladies who'd stayed in the hotel during its heyday. Or it may have just been my imagination that first time and the expectation of the scent thereafter.


A few years ago my beloved grandmother died, after a rapid decline into Alzheimer's. Within months of our family's first suspicions of incipient dementia, Grandma often did not recognize her own children, became increasingly paranoid and wandered off in the early morning hours. To say we were all grief-stricken doesn't begin to describe the awfulness of a decade during which this incredibly sweet, kind lady lived on in perfect health as her brain turned to Swiss cheese.

At some point she gathered her remaining faculties and made the decision that she would exercise the one bit of control she had left by refusing all food and water. I'm sure many of you have been through this or something similar, and know there are no words to describe the guilt you feel that you couldn't take care of someone who had loved and cared for you every day of your life. Then the horror of the realization that this person is inescapably starving to death, minute by minute, day by day and you can't (shouldn't?) stop it. This wonderful person who had endured a shiatty childhood and an arranged marriage to a man 30 years her senior, yet despite it all, was never bitter, just unfailing kind and generous to every person she encountered and always, always laughing and showering her grandchildren with love.

My guilt and grief when she died profoundly changed me. Of course it was a relief in some ways, but I felt horrible that I'd been so wrapped up in my own life for the past decade that I'd only been back to see her in the nursing home twice. I'd sent letters and pictures and gifts, but did they mean anything to her? Did she even get them? Why hadn't I told her while she could still understand that I admired her so much and wanted to be more like her and thank her for all the books she had bought me when I was a kid?

I couldn't move on. I was just devastated and wracked with sorrow and yes, self-pity. I spoke to no one outside my family about my grandma for a long time, instead greedily hoarding her memory and the loss in my heart. I didn't go to the funeral, though I knew my own mother needed me - I simply couldn't face seeing the 80-pound shell of my once-beautiful and vibrant Grandma Mary.

Then, the gifts started to appear - a dime and a single downy white feather. At first I just thought "that's odd" and didn't connect them to anything. They would just be there in the middle of the kitchen floor overnight, or in my driveway as I stepped out of the car. Sidewalks, elevators, you name it - lots of places where you might find a dime of course, but a feather? One time I was with someone, picked up the usual dime and feather from the ground, smiled and remarked "My grandma always gave me spare change wrapped up in a tissue when we were at her house. In the summer I'd walk down the hill to get ice cream." Then it hit me: she was with me, trying to comfort me. The dimes were from her, of course. The feathers - I don't know - was she an angel now? She had had the most beautiful wavy white hair since she was 19.

As I write this today, I realize I've often despaired over a wayward curl in the front of my hair which was identical to one she had. And not long before my grandma got sick, she took me up to a spare room in her house and from a box of old papers, pulled out a lock of her mother's hair, the exact shade of red as mine.

Was the appearance of all those dimes and feathers coincidence? I don't know. I do know that slowly they started to make me feel better, like my grandmother saying "Pieface, don't cry. It's not your fault. It never was." After a while, the dimes and feathers appeared with less frequency and then stopped altogether. Manifestations of my grief or signs from an angel who'd once walked the earth, I guess I'll never know.
2009-10-31 3:37:35 PM  
Anyone here wake up often with strange scratches? a few times a year I wake up with them and can't figure out where they come from. I always check my matress for springs sticking out, and I always gnaw my friggin' fingernails off so I can't blame that either. I'd blame my cat but these are generally on my sides or chest, and she sleeps at the foot of my bed or in the living room.

always baffles me.
2009-10-31 4:25:44 PM  
When I was a kid I had a ton of "ghost" encounters. I don't believe in these things now, but at the time I was absolutely convinced they were real. A couple of them happened when I was in bed, so I can assume now that they were just nightmares (but good luck convincing a kid of that). I had friends who used to say they saw and heard weird shiat whenever they stayed over, to the point where they would talk about it in school, and had a lot of people saying my house was haunted. Of course, their stories could easily be BS.

I did have two occurrences that I can't easily explain away. One was outside, in the woods behind my house, in broad daylight. There was this big ditch (that used to be a creek) with logs placed across it. I used to climb on those all the time. I was back there with a friend one day and I saw someone walking on air - not out of the corner of my eye, either. "It" was blocky, not quite shaped like a human, and wearing red clothes. It walked across the ditch and vanished. My friend didn't see it, but it freaked me out, since it was the only time I saw "something" outside of the house.

The second wasn't a one time event - there were, for years, scratching noises coming from one particular closet in one particular room. We had pets in the house, so at first, you would assume it was just one of them trapped and scratching the door. I opened the door several times to let the dog/cat out, but there was nothing in there. I never got an explanation for the scratching sounds. I can only remember them happening during the day, and only in that spot. After awhile I got used to them enough that I would just ignore them. Plenty of other people heard them - siblings, friends, but never my parents. I even had friends who heard it for the first time saying "Hey, I think your dog is in that closet" to which I nonchalantly replied "It's just a ghost, don't worry".

The third thing that happened in that house wasn't really scary or paranormal, it just made no sense. Every now and then, at a low volume, our answering machine in my parent's room would spring to life and start playing the song "Greenwich". Yes, that exact song. I didn't know what the song was called until years later, and I could never figure out what was happening. The song would start playing for no discernible reason; the phone didn't ring, nobody was touching the machine, it just happened. For the longest time, my parents thought I was making it up (all these ghost stories must have driven them crazy). One day somebody called and left a message, and said that the answering machine just played a "weird song" instead of the standard greeting. When we checked the machine, the message was the regular message - no "weird song". I am convinced that the song the person heard was Greenwich. My parents just dismissed it entirely. I guess it had to be some kind of incredibly bizarre electrical malfunction, because it seems too weird and specific to be paranormal.
2009-10-31 4:27:32 PM  
I was 16 and getting ready for bed the night before Picture Day at school. There was a pimple forming on my nose and I was mildly annoyed since it would be visible in my pictures the next day.

An important thing to know about me was that, even at 16, I was really unemotional. For whatever reason I never had the normal teenage hormonal mood swings, never really got angry or sad or anything. Very much happy-go-lucky and level-headed.

Anyway, as I was looking in the mirror, I was suddenly completely OVERWHELMED with the feeling of being fortunate/lucky/blessed since my biggest problem in the world was a pimple on my nose. I broke down crying in the bathroom, which was extremely out of character, just because this wave of emotion was so strong. Even while this was happening, I thought how unlike me it was. I had never (and never have since) been overcome by a feeling like that. If I had been religious at all, it definitely would have been a religious experience. I went to bed that night thinking that while it was true, that I was fortunate to be able to rank a pimple among the major problem in my life, it had been a weird experience in the bathroom.

The reason this story belongs in this thread is that the next day (Picture Day) was September 11th, 2001.
2009-10-31 4:34:03 PM  
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2009-10-31 5:21:43 PM  

TheFarkinEmpress: In 1995, my mom died from cancer. I was there at the moment she died, and so was the man I was engaged to at the time. She had been in a coma for 3 days. Right before she died, the room got brighter. I could see something made of light come into the room from the corner of the ceiling, and it went into her body. I jumped up from the chair I was in, and I turned to my fiance. He had jumped up too, and he grabbed me and said "Do you see that! The room is brighter!" I said yes, and we both looked at my mom. She opened her eyes, looked at us perfectly clearly and pushed herself into a sitting position. She shouldn't have been able to do any of that. Her right shoulder was completely dislocated. Her left eye had rolled up into her head and wasn't focusing before the coma. She had wasted down to 65 pounds. But there she was, completely awake and coherent. She looked at both of us, and was trying to say something, but obviously couldn't find the words. I reached down and touched her leg, and told her it was okay to go, and that I loved her. She smiled, and gently laid back on the bed. We saw the light leave her body, followed by another light, which I think was her. The night nurse at the hospice saw it too, and was excited that my mom had an 'angel' escort her to the other side.

Three days after my mom died, I was sound asleep, dreaming. I don't remember what I was dreaming about, but I remember that all of a sudden, I was yanked from the dream, and was standing in front of my mom. She looked like a human-shaped light figure, no facial features or anything, but I knew it was her somehow. She asked me to get pregnant, because she wanted to come back, and hated being without a body. I started trying to convince her to stay where she was for awhile, so she could review her life, and decide what to do next without making any rash decisions. We discussed it back and forth, and finally made an agreement that she would stay where she was for a year, and if she wanted to come back after that, I would consider getting pregnant. We hugged, and she walked away. I snapped back into consciousness. I was lying on my back in bed, looking straight up at the ceiling. I remember thinking that it was very weird that this encounter just happened. I turned my head to the left in the dark, to see if my fiance was asleep. He was laying on his side staring at me with huge eyes. Before I could ask him why he was awake, he said "We are NOT getting pregnant!" It turns out he saw my mom come into the room, put her hand into my body, and saw me 'pop' out of my body. He heard the whole conversation, even though no actual words were being spoken. He quoted the entire conversation, both sides, word for word. He was raised Catholic, and didn't believe in ghosts or anything, and was very scared by what he saw. He also said he was happy about it, because to him this proved there is life after death.

My mom continued to visit off and on for several years, often in front of various people. The latest was a few months ago, when she came in front of my current fiance, right after I said I wished he could meet her. She freaked him out too. But he said he thought it was cool that she showed up to meet him. She hasn't been back since then.

I like your story. My dad died on April 9th, and today is his birthday (seriously, he was a Halloween baby). I'd love to talk to him again.

Losing him really made me want to believe in an afterlife.
2009-10-31 5:41:24 PM  

mekki: I lived in an haunted house. I was probably the only teenager who did not want their parents to leave her alone in the house.

"Wait, you're leaving for the weekend? Oh, Fark. I am sleeping on the couch with all the lights on."

Seriously, that's what I did whenever they would leave. Every single light would be turned on regardless if I even thought about entering the room. The things that would happen in the house seemed tame by paranormal standards; doorknobs rattling, lights flickering, pots and plates clunking around, doors that never moved on their own suddenly closing, objects disappearing only to reappear days later in another room. But the worse was the feeling of being watched. You could actually sense what ever it was walking across the room like another person. Sometimes it would stand at my bedroom closet and stare at me at night.

That must have put a real damper on your adolescence.

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2009-10-31 5:43:13 PM  
Once, there was a Fark Scary Stories thread, and someone forgot to enable voting! It was impossible to pick the good stories out of the mountain of shiatty ones! AAAAH!

/Srsly, enough ones about moderately scary nightmares or times you saw a shadow
//But the ones about truly scary shiat are awesome
2009-10-31 5:45:33 PM  

headstone: Just a piece of my life.

Was her name Margarette or Louise?
note the conjunction.
2009-10-31 6:05:24 PM  

emmasews: blogma wrote: Eastern Airlines Flight 401 that crashed in 1972, in the Florida Everglades . There were 101 people killed in the crash, most were killed immediately but a few died a little later of their injuries.

True story....a friend of mine was a United Airlines Flight Attendant. She was on a flight once that was on the same flightpath as the plane that crashed in the everglades. She started seeing spirits in the plane and asked one of them, "Why are you here?" and the response was, "You are going to crash. We are here to help you." My friend got the other flight attendents together and they started "praying" and everything was fine on the rest of their flight. After they landed she asked a member of the cockpit crew what happened and he admitted they had fallen asleep!

Damn, those union rules are STRICT!

Why ghosts? Sounds more like time travel by holographic projection. You know, like Al from Quantum Leap.
2009-10-31 6:35:12 PM  

JohDHJ: There are two ways to get to SL: I-65 south to Indianapolis, then I-70 west the rest of the way.

I just have to say, I know exactly of where you're talking.

Purdue to STL, via IN26/IL9 and 55?.

But what the heck town did you get lost in? It's only like 45 miles between Lafayette and the IL border.
2009-10-31 6:45:00 PM  

phedex: Anyone here wake up often with strange scratches?

That happened to a friend a while back - mysterious scratches all over his lower back and stomach. He went to see his doctor about it and it turned out the scratches were coming from ...INSIDE HIM!!!

/sorry, old joke
2009-10-31 6:55:54 PM  
First ever post on fark. I was not aware fark had a scary stories thread until now. Here's a link (new window) to three "skeery" true stories I wrote for some friends a few years ago. I even mention fark in the third one. I've enjoyed reading others.
2009-10-31 7:11:06 PM  
She says she never has woken up with the sheets over her face and that putrid smell in her nose since she moved out.

Hehe. The Dutch Oven ghost!
2009-10-31 7:15:41 PM  
...and then they realized they were watching Police Academy 5
2009-10-31 7:19:20 PM  

darkscout: JohDHJ: There are two ways to get to SL: I-65 south to Indianapolis, then I-70 west the rest of the way.

I just have to say, I know exactly of where you're talking.

Purdue to STL, via IN26/IL9 and 55?.

But what the heck town did you get lost in? It's only like 45 miles between Lafayette and the IL border.

I'm almost certain he's talking about Pine Village, IN.
2009-10-31 7:40:45 PM  
Okay, I've seen some scary stuff in the past (I'm sure I posted my "Uncle's house in Glenn Lyon, PA" story in previous Halloween threads).

But here's one I've not told many people about...

As a kid in Nanticoke, PA we lived next door to an old man named Moriano. I guess I was around 6-8 years old at the time. I spent a few hours with his son one day, who seemed to be a year or two older than me. I looked up to him, hoping to be good friends. He seemed happy to share things he'd learned, since he was a little older than me.

I remember he showed me lots of strange things - but not scary stuff - one thing I remember him showing me was how he can put a dry napkin inside a paper cup and invert in into a puddle. He pulled it out of the puddle to show me how the air pressure held the water out and the napkin stayed dry. Just a simple "classroom" type of science tidbit to entertain a small kid.

He loaned me a transistor radio, and I was amazed by his trust in me - a transistor radio was a big thing to a little kid back then, and I took it as a great responsibility to ensure that I returned it in the same condition he loaned it to me in. I hid it from my parents, so I could hide beneath my blankets that night and listen to the radio after bedtime.

The next day, as I walked to Moriano's house, I remember turning the radio on and off several times on the way there, to make sure I hadn't run the batteries down - and thinking about how silly it was to keep turning it on/off, as it would probably contribute to draining the batteries, but I just wanted to make sure it still worked when he got it back. I knocked on the door and nobody answered, so I hung the radio on Old Man Moriano's doorknob and went home.

Later when I noticed Moriano was home, I went to make sure he had found the radio on the door. He was kind of upset and asked me how I had taken the radio from his house in the first place. I explained that his son had given it to me.

He pointed up at the picture of his son on the wall. He was older than my dad, and dressed in military uniform. I was too young for it to make sense, but from what I gathered his son had died in the war several years ago.

I was too young to dispute his claim, all I could say was I knew his name, and had played with him for many hours the day before, he wasn't much older than me, and I had hoped we would be good friends for a long time. To this day I still think back about him and the disappointment I felt for not being able to see someone anymore, who I thought would be a really good friend.

I'm sure the adults figured it was just a case of me swiping the radio, and returning it in hopes of not getting in trouble.

I wish I was a bit older and able to comprehend the situation, only small bits of it are still clear in my memory. I was pretty amazed at the dry napkin trick, and every time I see that air-pressure effect I think about him showing it to me. I often wonder what other tricks or advice he might have given me that I was too young to appreciate the value of.

But who knows - early memories can play tricks on us. Although that one day, and my memory of my friendship with him has stuck with me, and I think about him just about every day - for almost half a century now.
2009-10-31 7:52:56 PM  
Anyone have that story about the Black Eyed Kids? I think it was from last year. It scared the crap out of me.

2009-10-31 9:48:29 PM  
Black Eyed Kids - Brian Bethel

My Internet Service Provider used to have offices in a shopping center before they moved to their
(comparatively) lush accommodations elsewhere. There was a drop box at that original location. The
monthly bill was due, and thus, there but for the Grace of the Net I went.
It was about 9:30 p.m. when I left. From my relatively isolated apartments, it's about 10-15 minutes or
so to downtown (Abilene has a population of about 110,000).

Right next to Camalott Communications' old location is a $1.50 movie theater. At the time, the place
was featuring that masterwork of modern film, Mortal Kombat. I drove by the theater on the way into
the center proper and pulled into an empty parking space.

Using the glow of the marquee to write out my check, I was startled to hear a knock on the
driver's-side window of my car.

I looked over and saw two children staring at me from street. I need to describe them, with the one
feature (you can guess what it was) that I didn't realize until about half-way through the conversation
cleverly omitted.
Both appeared to be in that semi-mystical stage of life children get into where you can't exactly tell
their age. Both were boys, and my initial impression is that they were somewhere between 10-14.

Boy No. 1 was the spokesman. Boy No. 2 didn't speak during the entire conversation -- at least not
in words.

Boy No. 1 was slightly taller than his companion, wearing a pull-over, hooded shirt with a sort of gray
checked pattern and jeans. I couldn't see his shoes. His skin was olive-colored and had curly,
medium-length brown hair. He exuded an air of quiet confidence.

Boy No. 2 had pale skin with a trace of freckles. His primary characteristic seemed to be looking
around nervously. He was dressed in a similar manner to his companion, but his pull-over was a
light green color. His hair was a sort of pale orange.

They didn't appear to be related, at least directly.

"Oh, great," I thought. "They're gonna hit me up for money." And then the air changed.

I've explained this before, but for the benefit of any new lurkers out there, right before I experience
something strange, there's a change in perception that comes about which I describe in the above
manner. It's basically enough time to know it's too late. ;)

So, there I was, filling out a check in my car (which was still running) and in a sudden panic over the
appearance of two little boys. I was confused, but an overwhelming sense of fear and unearthliness
rushed in nonetheless.
The spokesman smiled, and the sight for some inexplicable reason chilled my blood. I could feel
fight-or-flight responses kicking in. Something, I knew instinctually, was not right, but I didn't know
what it could possibly be.
I rolled down the window very, very slightly and asked "Yes?"

The spokesman smiled again, broader this time. His teeth were very, very white.

"Hey, mister, what's up? We have a problem," he said. His voice was that of a young man, but his
diction, quiet calm and ... something I still couldn't put my finger on ... made my desire to flee even
greater. "You see, my friend and I want to see the films, but we forgot our money," he continued.
"We need to go to our house to get it. Want to help us out?"

Okay. Journalists are required to talk to lots of people, and that includes children. I've seen and
spoken to lots of them. Here's how that usually goes:

"Uh ... M ... M ... Mister? Can I see that camera? I ... I won't break it or anything. I promise. My dad
has a camera, and he lets me hold it sometimes, I guess, and I took a picture of my dog -- it wasn's
very good, 'cause I got my finger in the way and ..."

Add in some feet shuffling and/or body swaying and you've got a typical kid talking to a stranger.

In short, they're usually apologetic. People generally teach children that when they talk to adults,
they're usually bothering them for one reason or another and they should at least be polite.

This kid was in no way fitting the mold. His command of language was incredible and he showed no
signs of fear. He spoke as if my help was a foregone conclusion. When he grinned, it was as if he
was trying to say, "I know something ... and you're NOT gonna like it. But the only way you're going
to find out what it is will be to do what I say ..."

"Uh, well ..." was the best reply I could offer.
Now here's where it starts to get strange.

The quiet companion looked at the spokesman with a mixture of confusion and guilt on his face. He
seemed in some ways shocked, not with his friend's brusque manner but that I didn't just
immediately open the door.
He eyed me nervously.

The spokesman seemed a bit perturbed, too. I still was registering something wrong with both.

"C'mon, mister," the spokesman said again, smooth as silk. Car salesmen could learn something
from this kid. "Now, we just want to go to our house. And we're just two little boys."

That really scared me. Something in the tone and diction again sent off alarm bells. My mind was
frantically trying to process what it was perceiving about the two figures that was "wrong."

"Eh. Um ...." was all I could manage. I felt myself digging my fingernails into the steering wheel.

"What movie were you going to see?" I asked finally.

"Mortal Kombat, of course," the spokesman said. The silent one nodded in affirmation, standing a
few paces behind.

"Oh," I said. I stole a quick glance at the marquee and at the clock in my car. Mortal Kombat had
been playing for an hour, the last showing of the evening.

The silent one looked increasingly nervous. I think he saw my glances and suspected that I might
be detecting something was not above-board.

"C'mon, mister. Let us in. We can't get in your car until you do, you know," the spokesman said
soothingly. "Just let us in, and we'll be gone before you know it. We'll go to our mother's house."
We locked eyes.

To my horror, I realized my hand had strayed toward the door lock (which was engaged) and was in
the process of opening it. I pulled it away, probably a bit too violently. But it did force me to look
away from the children.

I turned back. "Er ... Um ...," I offered weakly and then my mind snapped into sharp focus.

For the first time, I noticed their eyes.
They were coal black. No pupil. No iris. Just two staring orbs reflecting the red and white light of the

At that point, I know my expression betrayed me. The silent one had a look of horror on his face in
a combination that seemed to indicate: A) The impossible had just happened and B) "We've been
found out!"

The spokesman, on the other hand, wore a mask of anger. His eyes glittered brightly in the half-light.

"Cmon, mister," he said. "We won't hurt you. You have to LET US IN. We don't have a gun ..."

That last statement scared the living hell out of me, because at that point by his tone he was plainly
saying, "We don't NEED a gun."

He noticed my hand shooting down toward the gear shift. The spokesman's final words contained
an anger that was complete and whole, and yet contained in some respects a tone of panic:

I ripped the car into reverse (thank goodness no one was coming up behind me) and tore out of the
parking lot. I noticed the boys in my peripheral vision, and I stole a quick glance back.

They were gone. The sidewalk by the theater was deserted."
2009-10-31 10:04:51 PM  
drug-rehabs.orgView Full Size

This isn't a ghost story but it's spooky nonetheless. Back at the University of Pittsburgh I used to love to do acid and other mild hallucinogens (no PCP or shiat like that, just the classics). Yeah, I know, some of you will stop reading right here but hear me out. Sometimes I would get really lucid dreams on nights around when I would trip. I'm gay and had a really hot Fench Canadian lover named Jarret at the time. One night me and Jarret were lying in bed and he was sound asleep and I was stroking his wavy chestnut hair deeply in love and suddenly I had this lucid dream: I was a giant prehistoric lizard clinging to the ceiling above the bed (90s style loft apt. with exposed ductwork) I was actually the female and Jarret was a male on the bed below me. Although we were generally olivish brown color, I was changing the colors on my neck to deep reds and oranges hoping they would attract him. I thought nothing of it in the morning, except that it just meant I was in love.

That was about 2004ish, Jarret and I have since broken up and moved our seperate ways and I now live in DC, where I'm a law student and have quit drugs; he's in France working for a vineyard. About a year ago there was this BBC documentary that played on the Discovery channel late at night or something in which they discribed the mating habits of lizards and how, indeed, the female would pump blood into special organs on it's neck to change them red and orange to attract a mate. Before that night in Pittsburgh I had no knowledge or interest in lizards, and had no idea of their mating rituals. Some people think LSD allows you to tap into alternate universes or even parts of the subconcious you would not otherwise see. I don't know about that, but they call the stems of our brains "reptilian" because of their similarities to the beasts that mammals and mankind evolved out of. I'm not freaked out by the things I saw on acid but revel in them. There's so much of the universe we don't know anything about and it's these mysteries that make life interesting.
2009-10-31 10:20:19 PM  
Another Black-Eyed kids story (new window)

And another... (new window)

What creeps me most about these stories is they seem somewhat consistent.
And I don't like it. No sir, not one bit.
2009-10-31 11:37:32 PM  
Tolstoy ahoy. My mother and I have had various independent experiences in our house, and my ex-boyfriend once heard the famous hallway footsteps from the basement.

One thing from when I was about two years old I remember very distinctly. I was sitting on the living room floor, playing with my toys, when suddenly everything around me changed--the furniture, the people, etc. Being around two years old, I thought nothing of it and continued playing, but soon a man on the couch fell forward, clutching his chest, and the others rushed to help him. After that, the room swirled back into normality.

A few years later, I remembered what had happened, and I asked my mom whether anyone had died in our house. She said no, so the memory went away for a while. A few years later, I asked whether anyone had ever had a heart attack in the house, and she said yes, that before we'd moved in, a man had had a heart attack there. (We were close friends with our neighbors, with the man in each house being brothers).

I can still see that vision clear as day--whether it was a dream which just happened to line up with reality or whatever, I couldn't say. This is in the same area, however, where every so often, if you're in the basement in the middle of the night, you can hear about five footsteps going down one particular segment of the hallway where the floor is especially squeaky above you, then just stop, with no one being there when you go to investigate. The basement also tends to get really creepy vibes at seemingly random times, but I've found some pretty high EMF readings from the water pump in the laundry room, so I can't chalk that particular experience up to being unquestionably supernatural.

Once, I was standing in the hallway of what was one of the original 100-year-old university buildings on campus, and heard loud footsteps going down the hall behind me. I turned around immediately after they passed behind me, but no one was there, and there was nowhere they could have gone. That was pretty cool, but it hasn't happened again since.

There was a dorm room I lived in about four years ago in which odd things would happen, such as the door being knocked on at random times with no one being out there when we answered, even if we were right there when it happened and opened the door immediately. It got to the point where we just stopped answering the door when we heard that particular style of knocking. When I was alone in the room and packing up to move out at the end of the year, a tin of Altoids, which were sitting perfectly flat in the middle of my desk, flew off the surface with a loud scraping and landed face-down in the middle of the floor, which would have required a good deal of force. I can only assume it was our ghost saying good-bye to me.
2009-11-01 12:06:31 AM  
I farking hate you guys I need to go outside now to go get my laundry but I am gonna pee myself I'm so scared...
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