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Ghost Tales from IGHS Members
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The following ghost stories were sent to us by members of the International Ghost Hunters Society. These have not been edited for grammar but transferred directly from our E-mail in-basket. If you would like to contribute a true story, sorry no fiction allowed, please E-mail your story to ghostweb@ghostweb.com and place "Ghost Story" in the subject field. Some of the stories are long. You may click on the story link and jump immediately to the story. When you are done, go to your menu and hit "Back" to return to the top of the web page or continue scrolling down to the next story.
Strange Footsteps by Heidi MacLachlan of macpack@onslowonline.net
Dear Ghost Hunters,
I do not know if this story holds any interest to you, or if it can be checked out. The occurance happened over 15 years ago, when I was around 10 years old. I was in bed one night, angry about being there because I was not tired. I suddenly heard footsteps and heavy breathing coming down the hallway and enter my room. I was very frightened, but believed it to be my older brother. The hall light turned on and I heard my sister call to me from the bottom of the steps to get in bed. I yelled back that Ken, my brother, was scaring me and she had better make him stop. Amy, my sister, came upstairs and told me that Ken was babysitting. I did not believe her, but went to bed anyhow. The next morning my mother confirmed that Ken had indeed been babysitting. I have no explanation for the footsteps, but shortly after that I started noticing a man looking at me through my perifial vision. Never head on. He stood very tall, nearly to the top of the door. His dress was from turn of t
he century. I never mentioned seeing him because I was often teased for the footsteps incident. I found out about 7 years ago that my younger sister also saw the man and that once another brother's bed shook for about two minutes as he was trying to sleep. Erika, my younger sister, said she sometimes heard voices, although I never did. The upstairs always frightened me and I never liked to be there alone. Although the house is now sold, my mother gets angry with me for saying that I believe the house is, or was, haunted. Is it possible to check it out? Because of the "doorway spectre" I thought for many years that I was suffering from mental problems. After we moved away, all my "visions" and uneasiness being alone left. The house is in Britt, Iowa.
THE OLD STORM HOUSE (STRUM) by Barbara Haas of barbara.haas@bangate1.tek.com (Long Story)
The old Strum place sat on a hill, 5 miles south of Cornelius, Oregon. Known as the Old Storm Place, it was built by an old German and his family from the old country. It had clapboard siding, painted white, lots of windows. It had a huge barn on the place that sat below the house amid huge cedar, firs and pine trees that sighed in the wind like the pines in a Curwood novel.
I first saw the old house in the last part of 1937. The depression was still rampant in the land and so many were out of work, but if you could get out of town and back to the land, there were always nuts, fruit, and berries to work in and put up for the winter at a minimal cost. There was always empty houses or woodcutters shacks, empty because people had left to go elsewhere, or some farmer had bought or leased land, and didn’t need the house that went with it. Most were not in to bad a shape, usually a stove had been left along with a rough hewn table, some benches, and orange crates for cupboards, nailed to the walls, one made out pretty well.
No one seemed to be on window breaking binges, so the windows were usually intact. With flour sack curtains, a good floor scrubbing, fire in the stove, and a pot of beans cooking, they were a haven to crawl into, and it felt like “home”. Most everyone took care of the property and left it as neat, or more so than when they moved in. Sure beat a hole-in-the-wall apartment, or a tar paper, or corrugated shack near the dumps. This district, I believe, was called the Iowa Hill District, strictly a German Lutheran Community. We sure needed a place to stay, we had a baby girl and my husband could cut wood if we could find a place to stay. We moved into the old Storm place, after getting permission from Alex Eischen, who owned another farm about a mile and a half away and farmed this place. We asked about the amount of rent he wanted, but to our amazement he could hardly keep a grin off his face or the twinkle from his eyes, like he had some secret, and he said he didn’t want any ren
t, as we wouldn’t be there very long anyway. He said sure we could live there, if we could stand it. Up the road the other way lived a bachelor, a thickset German, who only laughed when we told him we were moving in, and he wanted to know how long we were staying!!! We couldn’t figure out what the joke was, but shrugged
it all off and moved in. Everyone we saw would say incredulously, “You’re moving into the old Storm House?”, and look at us as if we were either to young, or to foolish to catch on. We met many with just open stares, embarrassed grins, or just a shake of the head. Evidently the house was well known!!
There was my husband and I, our little girl and a cousin, or brother who stayed with us, often by turns, who would come to help cut wood awhile. They used one of the old dragsaws, you now see in museums, and were paid $2.50 a cord, cut, delivered and stacked. This was divided two and sometimes three ways, but you could keep a few chickens, and the neighbors gave us milk for milking his cow when he had to be gone. The place looked like a castle as we sure needed a place to stay with a baby and down to our last “nickel”, you might say. My husband’s cousin had an old car put together sometimes with baling wire, so we had transportation. Our water came from an old pump by the side of the house, which we had to carry in for drinking, washing, scrubbing floors, cooking, canning, and baths. And of course had to be heated on the cook stove. The well was a deep one and echoed many sounds, like footsteps walking, that never appeared. We dismissed many sounds as just being the well what i
t was. We did begin to hear no one who ever lived there stayed very long. A cousin of my husband and her family stayed a short time before moving to the North Plains area. Their names were John and Leta Epler. They never would talk about the place, but did say no one member of the family stayed alone, and one time Leta was bitten by a rat as she laid in the bed with a small baby. They used the bedroom off the front room. While we were there, we hardly ever used the front door, or even the front part of the house, as the back door seemed more convenient to the kitchen, woodshed and all.
We begin to hear stories, mostly from our bachelor German neighbor, that the Strums had been bootleggers, a man was killed on the stairway leading upstairs, and that there were trap doors in some of the rooms. The bloodstains were still visible on the steps, four or five steps up and also where the blood spilled on the floor. We did find three trap doors that led to nice dug-out spaces below the floors. We kept being told after we moved, no one would live there ever, but we were young and brave, and who believed in ghosts anyway???
And who worries when you’re young. We moved in with little or no furniture, using what we could find, and besides we decided after being around, the other part of the house wasn’t needed, and it wasn’t a very “friendly” part anyway. For awhile everything went along all right, being early summer, we were out of doors a lot, but as it got on towards fall, we begin to notice odd noises. The first seemed to be these resounding footsteps that could be heard on the northside of the house where the pump sat. I would run out to meet whoever was there, glad for any company as the farms were a long way apart in those days, and no one would be there. Since the farms were two to three miles apart, we couldn’t see how the footsteps could echo so. No one seemed to be walking much anyway. The next incident was the sound of someone chopping wood in the woodshed, usually in the afternoons. It would be the sound of measured chopping and I would dash out, thinking my husband had come home early.
If the dragsaw was broken down, often his cousin would go to town for parts and my husband would come home and cut wood for the wood range and heater stove in the dining room. When I’d get to the woodshed, the chopping would stop, and start up again when I got back to the house. So I’d think he’d just stepped out side for a minute, and go running out again when the chopping started up again. This would go on and on until it seemed I would wear my legs out. This would go on for days, lasting an hour or so every afternoon, and then maybe go weeks before it would start up again, always in the afternoons only. This went on as long as we lived there. We never did figure out an explanation for this.
There were the sound of men’s footsteps that went to the stairs where the bloodspots were, stopped, and walked on into the living room, we used as our front room. This would go on for some time, and then quite awhile would pass before he would be back again. He seemed to end his walk at the trap door in the room. That trap door was very “active” all the time we lived there. I often wondered if someone was buried there. Every afternoon, without fail, about three o’clock in the afternoon, no matter what you were doing, your head would automatically jerk towards the corner of that trap door. It was a forced reaction and you couldn’t keep from doing it. It became so routine, we just accepted it. We never told anyone about this, as we like to see if it affected everyone the same way. It would and they would get a funny look on their face and say they had to be going. No one ever didn’t jerk and stare at the trap door. The trap door was cut in such a way, that if you didn’t kno
w about it, you didn’t see it, and we didn’t bother to tell anyone about it. We were having a good time with it and thought it was fun. After we moved a few people asked us about it and being young and full of mischief, sometimes we told them, “No, we didn’t notice anything”.
About once a month when there was a full moon shinning over the fields and trees, different footsteps walked from the back door through the kitchen, living room and on into the south bedroom, where they seemed to stand and look out the window. These were the steps of a young girl who seemed to be barefoot. Like the sound of bare feet sticking to the floor and then moving on across the room. Was she waiting for a lover who never returned or was killed? The men used to follow the steps, one by one and they didn’t stop until they got to the window. She’s the only one we ever saw, like apparition, barefoot and dressed in a long black cape. we saw her twice. One night one of my husband’s cousins was coming to spend the night. Ruby was to stop at a sisters place down below the hill from us, have supper and visit and then come up to spend the night. It got later and later and she hadn’t arrived so we went to bed, having told her to just come in and go to bed when she got back. Some
time after
midnight, the back door opened softly, thinking it was Ruby, I didn’t get up. The bedroom was long with a cot at the far end. As she seemed to stop, or pause at the doorway, I whispered, “Come in, Ruby, and crawl in!”
There wasn’t any electricity and the moonlight was shining in the window so I didn’t light the lamp. She
stood in the doorway in her long black coat or cape, so I whispered again louder, two or three times. Still
there was no movement and I was getting chills up my back. I woke my husband saying, “There’s someone standing there and they won’t answer.” He saw “her” standing there and swung at her with his fist, she disappeared. Ruby never did come, she had played cards and talked until so late, she just made a bed on the floor and slept there. We never told the rest about the barefoot girl. Many footsteps walked to the one trap door, but the other main one never seemed to have any disturbances. We dried walnuts upstairs in the unfinished part and the rats did roll walnuts across the floor to the edge and they rolled down between the wall. We know this accounted for some noises we heard, at least the ones upstairs. Some evenings when we lit the kerosene lamp, a strange wind would come in the house and blow the lamp out. We’d go outside to see if it were windy and the air would be strangely still. Go back in light the lamp, and the wind would blow it out time and time again. This would
happen for up to an hour at a time, and then back to normal.
My little girl who was a little over two by this time would be playing with her toys or dolls and would stop
her play and jerk around and look intently at “something”. I’d watch her so she didn’t know it and she would just look for awhile and then go back to playing. At the time we’d laugh and say “Oscar’s” back, with absolutely no fear. We liked it there with our ghosts. Now I wouldn’t stay in that place. One afternoon Mr Eischen said he’d be up to pick up some of the old prune dryers in the prune drying shed on the place. We told him we’d help load them. We were late getting back from milking and it was one of the evenings when the “wind” kept blowing out the lamps. Hearing pounding in the shed, my brother-in-law said he’d go help Mr. Eischen with the dryers, as it was getting pretty dark. When he got there, there wasn’t anyone there. When he got back to the house, you could hear the trays being lifted, pounding and footsteps. Each time they went down, the noise stopped and no one there. Come back to the house and it all started again. This and the lamps blowing out went on for
about an hour. All at once, the wind and noises were gone and everything was normal. The next day we asked Mr. Eischen if he’d come to get the dryer trays and he said no, he had found enough at his place and didn’t need them. Again we didn’t tell anyone of this. It was one time I was uneasy there. One time we had party with food and drinks and company. It wasn’t long until the guests all came and told us they were leaving, if we wanted to stay in such a weird place, go ahead, but they were leaving. We asked them
what was the matter, no one would say anything. We were surprised as we had told our “occupants” to behave themselves as we were having company, but the party broke up early and their parting shot was “If we ever moved, invite them again, but not to that place ever. “ We were surprised as we never told anything to anyone, partly because we were afraid they’d think we were ready for the funny farm and partly because we enjoyed our secrets. Being young and dumb, we thought it was hilarious and drank to “Oscar” and all the other shady men who lived there with us.
I never heard of a Mrs. Strum, but there were signs of a garden plot, a grape patch and clothesline.
The barn was the only place I was afraid of. It was a beautiful big barn and I loved barns. Since I had read and heard about Hobo’s or other homeless people scaring intruders away from the place they wanted to occupy, I went to look and see if this was the case with the barn. On a calm sunny day if I entered the barn, gates and partitions would slam shut with such force they would almost hit me. It was such force it would scare the living daylights out of me. There were no spring hinges, or anything like that that would make them do this. No matter when I went down there, this would happen. The pines were so sad sounding, they signed and sobbed in the breeze. Since the men were away a lot, I put up with the ghosts more than they did. I did stay alone a few times at night, but wasn’t afraid, except at the barn.>BR>
The summer of 1939 I had a baby boy and there seemed to be less ghostly goings-on. Maybe we were just happy with the baby and I was so busy with both children and lots of washing, to do on the wash board, and did it mainly outside during the summer. Toward fall my husband went to work for Arnold Gnos and since he had a woodcutters cabin on the place he came up the hill and insisted we get out of the Storm place. He seemed really concerned. Again no explanation and we gave none. As we drove away I looked back and thought I saw a movement at the window. One day a neighbor came by on horseback and said he was going to go look around the old Storm place and asked if we’d lived there. He came back in a couple of hours, hair unruly and visibly shaken. He asked if we’d “really lived in that place”? He had spent some time looking at some of the old magazines in the upstairs, but wouldn’t say anything else except “he’d never live there, in fact, he’d never so much as set foot in th
ere again!” Playing dumb I asked why as I wanted to hear someone else’s version of the place, but all he’d do is
shake his head as he rode on.
And what happened to the Old Storm Place? A great blaze appeared one day on top of the lonely hill and the old house, and perhaps all the ghosts, went up in smoke, or did they all go live in the barn? The house didn’t burn accidentally, the men of the neighborhood community got together and burned it down. They seemed to know a good deal about the strange going-on that went on in that old house, but none would really speak of it, maybe feeling a little foolish it were voiced aloud, and would tolerate no more of that place. I never went back after the house burnt just couldn’t. We “all” got along fine in the house together and lived together quite well. They tolerated us, but no one else could manage them. Perhaps they liked us, who knows? Being older and looking back, I couldn’t or wouldn’t have stayed there now as I’d have been scared to death. I’ve never talked about it much and now have written it down. My daughter remembers it very faintly, she was three when we left and re
members the good things, a puppy, a pet pig, going for walks and picking the wildflowers, and who knows what friends she had with “Oscar and troop?"
The Haunted House by Allison Cecil at ac5f@phil.dev.virginia.edu
My ex-husband owns a large parcel of land in rural Western Virginia and when we were married we used to go out to the land and fiddle around and hike. He bought the land when he was much younger and he bought it from an old man who had grown up on the land. Adjacent to the land that my ex owns, there is another parcel with a house on it. The house had always been referred to as the "haunted house". The old man that sold my ex-husband the property said that it had been haunted as long as he had known (at that time he was in his late 80's). We went out to the property one day and I told my husband that I wanted to go see the house. He said that no one lived in it and the people who owned it lived in a mobile home next to the house and they maintained the land, but they wouldn't live in the house. So we stopped at the house and the people were there. My husband got out of the truck and spoke to the man and told him that we were his neighbors and we had heard about the house and we
would like a tour if it was alright.
The man took us in and as soon as we were in the house I could feel a presence. I felt that it was a young boy around 8 or 9. I felt that he was still young enough to be playful but old enough to be fairly responsible. My husband looked at me, because he felt it too. We walked all through the house and it was fully furnished, each room was furnished but it was all covered with sheets. We walked through the house and the presence followed us. It was almost as though he were giving us the tour. As we were coming up the hall from the back of the house to the front (we entered the back door), we came toward the front stairs and I could feel him waiting for us. He just stood there on the landing waiting. As soon as we got there, he went up the stairs ahead of us and went into each room we did. I never saw him, but I could feel him very strongly. The last bedroom we went in was in a upstairs back corner. The bedroom was totally bare except for a baby crib that was full of stuffed a
nimals. All the other rooms had all the bedroom furniture except this one. It was odd, and the room felt odd. It seemed sad and I felt that that room had either been the child's room or he had died in it or something strongly tied him to it.
We left and thanked the people who owned the house and I could feel the child wanted us to stay. He was very nice and not threatening at all, but I was still a little spooked. As we left we took a good look at the old house. All the windows had shades in them that were always pulled shut except one. The window of the room with the baby crib never had a blind pulled in the window.
It was very interesting and I am planning to go back and take some pictures of the house and maybe get some images on film!
The Terre Haute by Kenneth L. Steidle at kens@n-link.com
I have a strong interest of the Paranormal. I have lived in two homes that I consider haunted, the first in Peru, Nebraska and the second in Terre Haute, Indiana. The house in Peru I lived in when I was young, around 6 or 8, it was an old square house built in the 1860's. The first time I realized it was haunted was while I was trying to go to sleep. For some reason I looked up and saw a boy, about 10 or 12, looking at me from the doorway. He was wearing clothes from the period, I guess, and they were worn and somewhat tattered, especially around knees and calves. He walked up to me and looked down at my bed, and then turned and walked into the closet. After that night I saw him 16 more times in the three years I lived there. I was never frightened after the first time, except for the one time a voice kept calling my name. It only happened once but scared me so bad I had nightmares about for years after.
The house in Terre Haute was newer, built in the 1940's and rather large. This Haunting involves my immediate family. We noticed it soon after we moved in, the sliding doors of the closet in the dinete would be shut then open by themselves minutes later. The door from the garage to the laundry room would be left unlocked only to come home and find the door bolt locked from the inside. For some reason the stairs to the second always feels as if someone is walking up or down them with you, but only in the evening. The stairs to the basement, furnished and well lighted, gave you a chill when on the top two or three steps. I know that doesn't mean a house is haunted but the next part of "Story" sure convinced me. In my junior and senior years of High School I noticed a "presence" follow me up the stairs and into my bedroom. This started to happen regularly and I came to accept it. Shortly after this started happening I would see someone out of the corner of my eye. Just enough for me t
o tell that it was there, but not enough for me to see it. When I entered college, at the local University, this presence grew stronger, to the point were I could feel it. It was as if the presence was groing into the room. One evening I had a girlfriend over and we were sitting in my room I went downstairs to get a drink from the kitchen and when I got back my girlfriend was almost hysterical. I took her home and on the drive back she wouldn't tell me what happened.
After some careful pushing and prodding she finally told me what happened. She said that while I was gone a serpitine like creature came out of the floor and told her to leave, that I was his and no one elses. This sounds crazy even to me but as I know she wasn't into drugs or anything like that I had to believe her. After that incedent the room always felt cold and ominous, no matter what the weather (something my mother commented on a few times). I took to spending as little time there as possible and frequently sleeping on the fold out bed in the basement.
The Family Room by Suzanne Brown at brownian@worldnet.att.net
Hi, Dave and Sharon:
Well, to be honest, I didn't know if I should really share this story or not; I've only told one person about it years ago, and I don't know if she believed it or not. In late 1983, ny ex-husband and I (then only married a few months) bought a house in Oakland, New Jersey. It was a raised ranch with the
living room upstairs and the family room (the source of strange feelings) downstairs. The house is located on a hill in the Ramapo Mountains, surrounded by quite a few other houses. The backyard,
however, was (literally) the "woods". I remember that we used to take hikes up there. It was really pretty. I think it was one of the neighbors who mentioned that the houses in our area were built on an old Indian burial ground, but I honestly don't remember exactly what he said.
I remember when we first moved into the house. I drove out to Oakland, from New York City where we had been living to go to the house and wait for my ex-husband to come with the movers. As I entered the house, I felt very strange coming in the front door (which opened into a downstairs foyer with the family room to the left, the garage (through a door) to the right and the laundry room ahead, with steps leading upstairs). I really felt as if someone was watching me or something. As I peered into the family room, the feeling got stronger as I actually went in. There were two small windows on the left as I entered and a long area, the length of the living and dining room upstairs. That part of the house was built underground. I felt so uncomfortable in this part of the house, that I almost never went down there alone. When I did, I left it as soon as possible. After awhile, I avoided the family room altogether. My ex-husband even thought it felt strange down there, although my
dog didn't seem to mind much, but he never went and sat on that side of the family room (and neither did we).
I started having dreams about some sort of thin blue lights dancing around down there, but I never saw anything (not that I was about to go and check it out myself!) I started to get really frightened. When I went downstairs to do the laundry, I would close the door to the back of the family room, have all the lights on and the television blaring and get out of there as quickly as I could.
In retrospect, I wish I would have known more. Then I could have taken some photographs to see what, if anything, would have turned up. To be honest, I have this tremendous fear of the unknown and the world of the supernatural, but seem strongly drawn towards it at the same time. Perhaps that is a sort of a paradox, but I really feel compelled to explore these avenues of alternate realities and/or dimensions. Perhaps that is why I'm such a fan of Stephen King and am totally
addicted to Star Trek anything.
The Cool White Mist by Charla Perkins cperkins@cyberhighway.net
Dear Dave and Sharon,
I would like to tell you about an encounter that happened to me about 13 years ago. I was working at a small home for the aged, about 8 patients resided there. My job as the night manager was to check on these people throughout the night. They were basically waiting to die. Often when I made my rounds I got a very uneasy feeling as I was the only staff person there and I had to walk around in a dark house. One night was especially bad because there was a man there who was dying of lupus and he wasnt expected to make it through the night. ( He did pass away the next early afternoon.) The way the house was situated, I had to round a few corners to make it past the bed rooms, and back into the living area. This particular night I had made my rounds having checked on the dying man. He was so close to death that his body was moaning.
Let me tell you, that really added atmosphere to what I was already going through. As I walked past his door,
I had to round two corners very suddenly as that was the way the house was situated. When I was rounding the second corner, I walked right through this white cool mist. I coundnt stop myself from walking though it as I was already stepping, and at the same time "it " acted as if It was tryng to get out of my way. This mist was about as tall as the ceiling and was about 4 feet wide. However it had no depth. It was like walking through a veil. It seemed to be in the rough outline of a person, having a head that I know turned to look at me as I was about to step through it. I didnt see facial features or anything. I ran out of the house out the back door as fast as I could. I didnt look back to see if it was following me, or to get a closer look.
I have never felt terror like that before in my life, though there was no feeling of evil or anything. Looking back on the situation, I think I accidentally interupted something. I honestly believe the man dying had ev
ery thing to do with what I saw. I was scared because of the experience, not because the "ghost" scared me. I didnt keep that job for very long, I was too scared of what else might be showing up to meet the dying. What are your thoughts on this? Have you ever heard of anyone else having this experience? I would really be interested in hearing any similar stories.
The Apartment by J. J. Lowe Associates, Inc. of JJLA@snet.net
I'd like to share an experience my mom had that she has related to me a couple of times when I was younger. When she was a young girl in the late 1940's in Germany, she lived in an apartment with her parents and two older sisters. She and her sisters shared a bedroom in the attic. She said that on some nights, she would be visited by a monk-like figure in a robe and hood who put his hands around her neck and try to strangle her. She could never see its face, being obscured by the hood. She always knew the nights when these visitations would occur because she would be awakened by a light shining in her face, and would then hears low footsteps coming up the attic stairs. Too paralyzed with fear to move, (or maybe by something else), she could only lie there and wait and watch helplessly until it made its appearance. She even tried to trick it one night by ducking down under the covers to the foot of the bed, but it only lifted the covers at that end instead! Her sisters never awoke to see what was going on, and she couldn't tell her parents (my grandparents), who were very strict, and she might get punished for "telling stories".
The experiences didn't cease until they finally moved away. To this day, it still bothers her to talk about it, but she has considered going to a hypnotist to see if it really happened or not, but she is a afraid it will somehow find her again.
Anyhow, this story always gave me the willies, as it's one of the the only "firsthand" experiences I have ever heard, unfortunately. Except for my sister's friend, who lives in an old house in New Milford, CT, and who sometimes hears a ghostly baby crying coming up from the basement from a hole in her fireplace. <> :}
The Hills
by 1nova@worldnet.att.net
There is a place close to my house that is haunted. I've paid two visits to the area. It's called "the hills" and there are two things that happened there years ago which leads into the paranormal activity. A young woman killed herself by slitting her wrists there, given it is a heavy forest surrounding the hills, it took some time before her body was found.
Around fifteen years ago, a serial killer claimed victims near the canal of the park...he later died while running from the police. Today the forest is an area used by Satanic worship. My friends and myself went there last week. My one friend is not only psychic, but he is also a shaman. My fiancee and I met the other people at the entrance around eleven that night. (at their requests, I'm not naming the people involved except for my fiancee and myself) Our first stop was the "Julie tree" this was the tree that her body was found leaning on. What made the place seem strange was that there was no wind or sounds of wild life in the park. The center where the tree had a major temperature drop, and that was when we heard something that our shaman friend talked about earlier, sounds of blood dripping on leaves and running down the tree. My fiancee saw a shadow around that time sitting by the tree. We were about four feet from the base sitting in a semi circle so it wasn't one of
us.
When we walked around the park, the air bounced between warm and humid to almost frigid. One of the people in the group walked down a trail and came across a grove of trees. My fiancee Cindy started to walk with me towards the grove when she stopped. She told me that something didn't want her to enter the grove. We brushed it off until the two of us started to walk down the trail. I had the opposite feeling as she did, I felt someone or something was trying to get me to help it. We got halfway when Cindy said that she felt sick and dizzy. I got concerned and helped her walk back to my car. When we left, we both talked about the different events and then compared notes. What was strange was that we both saw a headless figure standing and pointing into the grove when we walked back to the car.
My shaman friend and I returned two nights later. We searched the other side of the park. He was burning incense and chanting when I walked passed him and headed towards another trail. I heard the sound of bushes moving and when I looked in the direction, I saw a shadow like form running up the trail heading for me. My emotions got the best of me and I ran down the trail past my friend. When I calmed down I told him what happened. He asked me to take him to where I first heard the sound. We got there and he walked around. We then somehow got seperated. I called for him and heard him respond. I followed his voice until I noticed that I was lost. I called for him and didn't hear anything. After an hour and a half, we found one another. That was when my friend told me that he spent the time on the other side of the park and wasn't near me. I vowed that it would take some time before I return to the hills.
The Three Spirits
by Chris Chase of Mullian@ix.netcom.com
I curently live in a house that is occupied by several spirits of past occupents of this house. The house is one of the oldest in Greeley the town in which i live. it was built in the late 1800's and the ghosts that reside there are easy to get along with they usually keep to themselves in several of the rooms which we don't use. on many occasions you can hear footsteps and sounds of people in the house even when i'm the only one home. We've even enlisted the help of a pychic to communicate with the spirits and have successfully contacted them.
The best information i've been able to gather is we have 3 permanent spirits two of which were or still are husband and wife and the spirit of a small child. the child who died in a horseback riding accident seems to be searching for her mother you can hear her come in and out of the front door and walking around on the outside porch. the older couple that also lives there is most active during the evening and early morning hours.
My younger sister as seen the spirit of the woman standing on the top of our staircase late one night. it seemed to acknowledge my sister and then went into the spare bedroom. Aside from the usually noise there was a particular time the spirits made their presence know was to warn us that somebody was trying to get into our house. The spirits didn't really make noise they just made us wake up or made it hard for us to sleep they kept making the candles in the room dance and flicker, finally we got out of bed and about five minutes later some strange person started pounding on our front door and trying to get in we called the police and finally they left. After that the spirits quieted down. I'm always interested in learning more about ghosts and spirts now that I have experienced some of it firsthand.
The Old House
by Elizabeth Bathory of bartha@hiwaay.net
I am a full-time college student and have been in love with ghosts all my life. I've always had a strange feeling every time I get near an old building, house, or other structure. I have even been known to get the 'feeling' from vacant land. A very strong experience happened while I was married to my ex-husband. There is an old house close to the medical district of my city. I found it by 'accident'. I wanted to see the inside so bad that I convinced my husband to pose with me as potential buyers seeing as how the house was for sale. We got to see the inside. I've always loved old and dilapitated buildings. This one was no exception. The inside was absolutely beautiful! It had an old Victorian ring to the architecture. We walked through the house, and I was in love! But something was strange. I had noticed my 'feeling' when I walked onto the ground outside. Inside, it was much stronger. I found my husband looking in the living room(?) and he opened a corner closet door.
It was triangle in shape and centered under where the stairs go over the living room. When he opened it, both of us were hit with a very strong cold chill. Now, I get cold very easily, but I've been known to accuse him of being a penquin because he never gets cold. The house had been vacant for, if I remember correctly, about 20-40 years. A few days later I was sitting on our couch at home (we really didn't buy the house, we didn't have the money) and was watching the local news. There was a news report about a homeless man who ]was found dead under a vacant house. He had been dead for about three weeks. Guess what house he had been found under? I almost screamed and called my husband in the room. We both watched in horror as police pulled a body out from under the porch of the very house we had been walking in a few days later. Please feel free to post this story, all I ask is that my name been present. This was a very significant event in my life.
I have a number of ghost stories. The most detailed one, started one evening when I was about 14 or 15. Myself and three of my friends were going to visit a friend that lived in a nearby town. We had been discussing ghosts and such and 2 of my friends didn't believe I could really see ghosts (I had seen some before this). They decided to put me to the test and stop at a rural cemetary that had a reputation of being haunted. When we got there, they turned the car around so we could make a quick get away if necessary and we got out. It was about dusk but still light enough to see. I walked around slowly looking around and suddenly I got a feeling of absolute terror. I quickly looked up and around and saw on the other side of the cemetary, about 50 ft away, a figure. I was almost frozen with terror at the apparition but I managed to grab the arm of my friend. He noticed something was wrong and looked where I was looking. We both saw the same thing, a large man in a red flannel shirt with
overalls holding a shotgun. And the most horrifying thing--he was headless. As I was getting my friends to leave, I turned to look at him one more time and I saw him raise the gun. He actually shot at us a couple of times. One 'bullet' actually pierced the back of the car. When it was taken in for repair though the bullet could not be found. Noone had been near the car after it was hit. And no one could have been near the cemetary without us knowing it. We would have seen them coming and heard their vehicle. We still won't go back there.
Northern Ireland Story
by DARRYL ARMITAGE
of 101455.3444@compuserve.com.
They spoke to present caretaker, Dessie Farrell, who told them what he knew about the history and the stories... which he said, to his experience they where true. On one occasion Dessie was stopped by a woman who regularly takes her dogs for walks in the early mornings along the coastal path. To get to the path she had to walk past the house. That morning, Dessie says: The lady came over to me. She appeared quite worried. She asked me: What was the nurse doing here Dessie? Is there something wrong? I admit I was very confused. I asked her what she was talking about. She said: When I when I went to let the dogs out my car I saw a nurse come out from the side door of the building, you know the old main door! And I thought that she must have been here to see you. She went white when she realised what she had just said. Is there a story behind this apparition of a nurse? According to Dessie there is. The late husband of the woman, a Mr Crawford, who inherited the house was injured in a m
otorbike accident on the road that leads down to the house. The man was brought to the house and a nurse was brought in to look after him. He eventually died as a result of the injuries sustained in the accident. But the nurse who had looked after is reported to have said as she was leaving the house, from the door that the apparition was seen leaving the house: I will be back to this house. Dessie reported that there was a series of other strange happenings inside the house. He said: We have things happening all the time in the house itself. The most recent happening, he said, being less than three days before the researchers turned up at the house when he was disturbed by the echoes light fitting crashing to the floor. He admits that when he first took up the job as caretaker, when something like this happens in a building his first reaction would have been that there was a break-in, but not anymore and certainly not in Crawfordsburn house. He lay on his bed waiting to see if he co
uld hear any human sounds: footsteps, drunken voices; but he heard none. He had to get up, somewhat reluctantly and cautiously, to investigate what was had happened in the house. When he got to the front of the house he found that an old light fitting had smashed to the floor. He said: It may sound like the fitting had either been pulled down by an intruder or it had snapped because it was worn down by time; but this could not be the case. Firstly, the argument that an intruder could have pulled the fitting down is unlikely. The ceiling is unreachable with a standard ladder. Indeed during repairs in the house Dessie said that the contractors had to bring in an industrial ladder to reach the ceiling. Secondly, the argument that the fitting had simply fallen from the ceiling as a result of the fitting being worn down with time was also unlikely. On examination, one of the researchers found that the links had not been worn down or broken. Dessie related to the researchers that one time
when he was showing people around the building, figures have been seen standing in corners, solid doors have been slammed shut without even a slight draft and there had been a distinctive feeling of being watched. On other occasions objects disappear and reappear. While Dessie was showing the researchers around the house he noticed that a trolley that had been parked in the hall the night before had been moved into a room further up the hall. On one ominous day, he recalled that he was taking a couple around the building because they had been considering buying a flat when the house was converted. They had gone into the room where the light fitting had smashed to the floor to admire an ornate fireplace. As they stood in the room the lady became startled and glanced behind her back. Dessie recalled: She shivered. She immediately said that she thought she had felt a cold hand on her shoulder. And as she turned she thought she seen a figure. I flashed the torch in the general direction
that she had pointed but we could see nothing but there was a nervous feeling, as if we were being watched. Then the door, out to the old main door, slammed shut and we were left in complete darkness. That was the last time I saw that couple, but there have been six of the flats sold so far. On another day he arrived at the house to change shifts with his colleague to find him in a bad way. The man related to Dessie how his dog had become apprehensive when they had entered the staff dining room. He thought he had seen a figure standing in one of the rooms corners and so had flashed the light in the general area. As he did an old ink holder was hurled across the room. The black ink mark can still be seen on the wall. The man left the room immediately; and resigned soon after. So what is the history of the house? Does the it's history lend itself to tragedy? For the tragedy and misfortune, that the house witnessed and which its former residents experienced, we only have to look to back
on the last 100 years. Crawfordsburn House was built in 1836 by the Wilson family. The house is recorded as Crawfordsburn demesne in both the North Down Spectator and the Newtownards Chronicle. The Wilson family were one of North Down's largest grandees, that included families like the Dufferins, Hamiltons and Wards. The Wilson's owned large tracks of land in the North Down: they built both Helen's Bay and Carnalea Golf courses. The Wilson name now graces golf balls and other golfing accessories. Beside Crawfordsburn House is the old Wilson home: the dark stoned Crawfordsburn Castle. The castle was converted into stables after the house was built in 1836, and has since fallen into disrepair. The house passed from the Wilson family to another prominent North Down family, the Crawfords, at the beginning of the 20th century, when a daughter married into the Crawfords. It was soon after this marriage that unexplained things began to happen to the family. The Wilson-Crawford marriage end
ed in separation. Mrs Wilson-Crawford moved to France but within days of arriving had dropped dead. On her death her husband sold part of the house and some of the land to the Department of Health. Not long after the sale Mrs Wilson-Crawford's ex-husband died as a result of a motorcycling accident, that occurred on the road leading to the house. The couple having no heirs, the house and land was passed onto the Department of Health. The house was given a new lease of life in 1950 when the Department of Health converted the house into a TB hospital for children. They also built in the 1960's two outhouses: one was a morgue; the other was a chapel of rest. With a decline in the TB the house was converted into an old people's home during the 1970's. The house remained an old people's home up until 1986 when it was closed down. Since then the house has been empty. It has been put up for sale several times. It has been sold only twice. The first time the house was sold the developers h
ad planned to modernise the building and make it into a hotel. The developer's plans got no further. According to the present caretaker, one of the developer's wife went down with a serious illness after the proposals were publicised; another developer was not so fortunate and died soon after. The house was once more put on the market. The house has recently been sold for L2.5 million. The new owners intend to convert the building into flats... they have already sold six.... and nothing has yet happened to the new owners. It is likely that any sceptic who might be reading may presently be saying: It's all coincidental. There is nothing in it. When one of the researchers contacted Adrian Mencarelli about the building he was dismissive of the stories. He said: All these stories are hearsay. There seems to be no proof of anything happening at all. He added: In my opinion it is more likely to be unruly youths messing about in the building than anything else. And why go looking for zebras
when there are no hoof prints? Mr Mencarelli was unaware that there were caretakers who lived 24 hours a day in the house. He was also unaware that since the old peoples home was closed down in 1986 there had been 17 caretakers in under 11 years. He also did not know that the house was strangely free of mice, rats and pests; there was also very little dust for the `zebras`, that the researchers were searching for, to leave their hoof.
This took place in Spokane, Wa. In Early August of 1995. The names are actual.
My then-girlfriend Deshan and I were headed towards an all-night coffeeshop that a friend of mine had just opened. This happened at about 1:00 or 1:30 AM. Before I go any further, let me say that Spokane is a very safe city. And the Shadle area was (and still is) one of it's most quiet neighborhoods. So, walking around in the middle of the night isn't overtly dangerous.
Anyway, we reached the intersection of Garland & Cedar. There was streetlamp on the SE corner, that went out as soon as we walked under it. That was startling, but obviously one doesn't totally freak out over something like that. We'd gone about another four feet, when we were struck by a *large* pocket of cold air. It moved with enough force to almost knock us off balance. It shot between us, and stopped abruptly behind us. It seemed to stay there, and spread out then, like it was wrapping itself around us. Deshan grabbed my arm (hard enough to leave bruises), and we bolted. We reached the end of the block and looked back, and saw a pale grey cloud sitting there, which looked to be about five feet wide, and eight to nine feet in height. It was hard to tell exactly from that distance, though.
Now, I'm *not* psychic or anything, but I had three distinct impressions about this thing. First, I felt that it wasn't anything human, and that it never had been. Secondly, it was very hostile. Lastly, I felt it was intelligent. I don't know why, but I could just tell that it was not a mindless thing. Whatever it was, I've never been as afraid of anything in my life. Not before, or since.
A few nights later, we took the same route (hey, it was a cool coffeeshop!). And as soon as we walked under the streetlamp, it went out. This time, however, we didn't wait to see what happened next.
We took a different route after that.
Ghost Story
by Nancy Kiefer
of nkiefer@cyberdrive.net.
Dear Dave and Sharon,
I am a new member of the ghost hunters club and would like to share with you
an experience that happened to my brother and myself a few years ago in my
Cleveland Heights, Ohio home.
It was February and at the time my brother, Jim, was living in an apartment
on the third floor of my house. On this particular day he had been browsing
in second-hand stores and purchased an old ouija board -- a very old one
from the appearance of its box. Neither one of us were as aware then as
we are now of the dangers of ouija boards. Later that night we played with
the board in my dining room. I don't recall that we received any
interesting or enlightening messages from it. It was returned to its box
and stored on the third floor.
Over the next several months a series of events occurred in my house that
we would eventually connect with the board. However, when these events
first began, we didn't make the connection. The first event happened
shortly after we used the board and put it away. I had gone into the
kitchen to get a drink of water. The dishes had been washed and left out
to dry hours ago, so they were all dry and room temperature. I reached
for a glass and had barely begun to touch my fingers to it when it literally
exploded, seemingly from some inward force, almost as if a large fire
cracker had been inside the glass. I was extremely shocked and startled.
I called to my brother and younger son to come downstairs and see the
hundreds of tiny shards of glass scattered all over the sink and floor.
They, too, were baffled by it.
Soon after this event, all of the occupants of my house (myself, Jim,
and my two sons) began to hear disembodied voices. Jim heard them first.
He walked into the house late one night and distinctly heard a group of
people talking in the living room near the TV set. He assumed it was my
sons watching TV. When he entered the room he found that no one was in
there and the TV was not turned on.
I clearly heard the voice of a man speaking in the same area of the living
room when I was alone in the house. (This happened before my brother shared
his experience with me, so I was not influened by him). Neither of us could
make out any words, but the voices were distinctly human. My sons heard
their names being called when they were in their bedrooms at night, but
neither my brother nor myself had called to them.
Other events consisted of my son's stereo turning itself on when no one
was in his room and blasting music at full volume. The upstairs hall light
flickered frantically and eratically; a phenomenon I had never before
witnessed in the house or have since. More glasses cracked as I held them
(although there were no more explosions). Both my brother and I sensed
a presence in the same area of the porch when we sat out there at night.
It seemed to hover by the door to the living room. I was very frightened by
this presence. One night in particular I was sitting alone on the porch in
the dark when I sensed that the blackness by the living room door was more
intense than the rest of the area. I strongly felt the presence that night
and was concerned about how I was going to get back into the house since one
had to walk right through it to reenter the house. Eventually I got up the
nerve to RUN through it and slam the door behind me.
On another occassion Jim's friend called the house to speak to him. A man
answered the phone and informed the friend when he asked for my brother,
"Jim doesn't live here anymore."
I have a very psychic friend named Greg whom I eventually called to discuss
the occurrences. I explained to him what had been happening in the house -
a house that for the fifteen years I had lived in it had never experienced
anything even vaguely resembling a haunting. He asked me if I had done
anything unusual within the last few months. The only thing I could think
of was the ouija board. Greg then explained to me the link between ghosts
(and sometimes demons) and ouija boards. He said that when Jim and I
"played" the board, we had set the spirit free. Greg said the spirit in my
house was a man who had lived in a rural part of Ohio. He probably used the
board to communicate with his dead wife and then was unable to detatch
himself from it after his own death. The cluster of voices Jim heard were
people who had used the board. I asked Greg what we should do, and Greg
strongly felt that this spirit was unhappy, probably did not know that he
was dead, and we should try to send him on where he would be reunited with
his wife. As Greg explained the rite we should use, the hall light started
flickering madly for the duration of our conversation and then promptly
stopped when I hung up.
The following night Jim and I performed the simple ceremony Greg described
to us. Annointing the board, we asked the spirit firmly, but lovingly
to move on to a higher realm where he would be with God and his loved ones.
The next day we threw the board away as we did not want anybody else to play
with it. No more strange phenomenon happened in the house after that. I
feel certain that our spirit went to on to something far better. (Greg was
convinced that he did). I have also taken it upon myself to warn people not
to play with ouija boards.
When I was living with my parents and still in high school I had an
experience that lasted approximately 2 weeks. Every morning I would get
ready for school, by sitting in front of my bedroom mirror, curl my hair and
apply my face for the day. My bedroom closet was about the size of a coat
closet with a regular door devoid of any objects except a small hook where I
hung my robe on the inside of the door. One morning, I was making myself up
and glanced in my mirror at the open closet door. Standing in a duplicate
'mirror' was a young man ~26-30 wearing blue jeans and a long-sleeved dark
green shirt. I was only able to see him in my peripheral vision for when I
tried to focus on him, he and the mirror he was in disappeared completely.
At first I was scared and unnerved, but curious at the same time. Every
morning I would see him in the physically nonexistant mirror on the inside
closet door. I tried to communicate with it, by asking his name and purpose,
but nothing so much as a whisper came from him. I just got used to him until
one morning I glanced at him and I felt an uneasy feeling as if he were
trying to warn me of something. That night I dreamt of stuffed animal dogs
all around me, with strange personalities. Only two or three seemed to
'speak' (without visually moving) and one was clearly my father (still alive)
comforting me. All of a sudden all became still in my dream, the stuffed
animals stopped talking and the one on my bed seem to be thrown across the
room and my bed, at the base rose and dropped to the floor forcefully (still
in the dream) many times. I screamed and tried to hide under the covers and
felt myself trying to wake up. Finally, I woke up to quite, although my bed
felt as if it were still recovering from being jarred so forcefully. I got
up enough nerve to run out of my room and bang on the door of my sleeping
parents. There was only a wall between us and they claim they did not hear a
thing. (My parents are very open minded and at the time I studied meditation
and practiced OBEs. They felt strange about it, but didnt call me stupid or
anything). I didn't see the 'apparition' the next morning, but later that
night my mom (step actually) was sitting on the coffee table as I was sitting
on the floor while we spoke on the matter. For a brief moment, maybe 30
seconds I saw the man sitting on the opposite end of the coffee table looking
at me without expression. I could see him more clearly and although I saw
him out of focus I felt sorrow that he was leaving. I just knew somehow that
this was the last time I'd see him and I havent seen him since. This whole
experience only lasted about 2 weeks and to my knowledge nothing ever
happened previously in this 22 yr old house.
My sister told me once, many years ago when we were staying with our
biological mom, younger and still living together that one night she felt
knocking underneath her bed and saw a small shadow figure indicative of a
mouse run from underneath her bed across the room and disappear into the
corner of the room. Shortly after she claimed it was followed by a larger
animal shadow and it too ran from under her bed, across the room and into the
wall. I did not see this, but she says that the next morning she washed red
blood-like substance off the wall where the figures disappeared. My
mother, weird as she is, used to tape record us in the house while we played
or when we were left alone. I think she was molested when she was little and
being somewhat 'disturbed' believed I may have been doing it to my sister.
Anyhow, one night she did this and confronted me with strange noises, such
as moaning and whimpering and strange 'static'. My sister and I were plainly
playing with dolls in her room and could be heard in the background of the
tape at the time. The tape recorder had been hidden under my sisters bed
when the recording was taken.
Flight 4184
by ptlm3@netnitco.net.
Hi Dave
I have never sent in a story before but I have one that seems
to fit. I am a police officer and what happenend took place while me and
another officer were working the security of the crash sight of flight
4184 that happened on October 31 1994 in the Roselawn Indiana area.
My department was contacted in the first week of November to supply
man power to work security at the crash sight, after hours to protect
the sight from vandals and souvenier hunters. I went to the scene a week
later to work security from 3pm to 7am. Upon arrival at the crash sight
it was still light. I was met by the second unit, a chief from a
neighboring department. We were parked side by side in fully marked
police cars at the entrance to the access road. After all of the workers
left I asked the chief where the crash sight was actually at. He advised
drive down this road about 300 feet in the field at the end. I then
drove to the end of the road and observed the crash sight. I saw what
appeared to be hundreds of orange painted stakes that marked where the
recovery teams had found human remains. When I returned back to my
position next to the chief I passed two trucks used in the clean up. I
heard one truck running. I asked the chief if it was normal for the
workers to leave the trucks running. He advised no and made a phone call
from his cellular phone. He then advised that the sight manager told him
over the phone to go ahead and turn off the truck. We then drove down to
the truck approximately 100 feet away. The chief opened the door and
turned off the engine. We then waited there for a minute and made sure
none of the other equipment was running, nothing was everything was
turned off. We then returned to our spot at the entrance of the road.
Upon returning, we were sat there talking about the crash. His car was
facing the county road and mine the crash sight. It was now begining to
get dark. While talking I noticed a flashing yellow light coming from
the area of the truck that had been running. I asked the chief if there
was a light on the truck that he forgot to turn off. He advised no. I
then told him there was now. I then immediatley turned on my spot light
and shined it in the direction of the truck. Thinking it was someone
playing a joke on us. When I illuminated the area I found that the
flashing light was not coming from the truck we had turned off but from
the Semi parked behind it and the light was its right turn signal. We
immediately drove to the location. The chief took the passenger side of
the truck and I the drivers. The doors were unlocked. I opened the door
and checked the interior of the truck and found nothing. I checked the
sleeper compartment and found nothing. When I checked the turn signal
switch I found it to be in the up position. I returned the switch to the
neutral position turning off the light. I found it took some force to
move the switch and it did not appear to be broken or damaged. We then
checked the area and found no footprints or any sign that some one had
been there. The chief asked if anyone could have gotten to the truck
while we were talking. I advised, no because I was watching the entire
time and when I turned on my spotlight no one would have had time to
leave the area undetected. I asked him if he saw the light on when he
turned off the other truck. He advised no it was not on. He asked me if
there was any way the switch could have slipped into the up position. I
advised him no, that was impossible, something had to physically move
it. He then advised maybe it is a malfunction in the turn signal. I then
reentered the truck and turned the signal on and off several times
without a malfunction. Without finding a logical answer to how the turn
signal came on we returned to our positions at the entrance of tha road.
The rest of the night was uneventful and when I left in the morning I
passed on the story to my relief. When the sight was completely cleaned
up and returned to its owner I asked the other guys from my department
that work the sight if they had seen or heard anything unusual. They all
advised no.
Haunted Mountain
by B. Garcia at hramis@scruznet.com.
Dear Ghost Hunters
The story I am about to tell you might not be as scary as the rest but
it managed to scare my friends and I.
This happened on a summer afternoon My girlfriend and I along with 2
other couples decided to have a bond fire at the beach, ths was about
ten therty at night every body was doing their own little thing when I
looked into the sky and saw 3 flooting object out tworeds sea. they just
sat there and glided back and fourth for a couple of minutes, as a joke
I said look UFOs and every one started to stare. we thought it was
kiend of wierd so we decided to leave the beach, to get to our cars we
had to walk up this dark path so we did about half ways up the path one
of the girls said that they saw a shadow of a man hiding into the bushes
so one of my friends and I walked carefully in that derection expecting
to surprice who ever wa there but when we got near the bush there was
nobody there. So we continued to go to the cars, I had barrowed my
cousins 280 zx that day its not the best looking car around but it is a
verry fast car, we decided to drive up to mt madona a mountain near the
town where we live in, we took this old rd to the top of the hill, here
is where the wierd things started to happen we where driving and then
out of no where a huard of dears raced accros the old rd as if some
thing was chasing them so we thought that it was a mountain lion or
something, but still something did not feal right. My girl friend and
her best friend who was with us felt scared nd asked me to leave this
place. my other friends where fallowing us in a seperate car so I was
going to wait untill we got to the top of the hill to tell them that we
wanted to leave. at the verry top of the hill before I stoped my car
just died, the car was in motion when it happened so It was not my
shifting but my car just died.
I tried starting it but it would not work finaly I decided to jump
started by getting it to start in reverse, I decided totry to start it
one more time and it finaly worked, I drove to the top and got out, my
friend was right behiend me so he also got out and we walked tworeds
each other I started to tell hime that we did not want to be up there
when bouth of us saw this bright flash for no mere than a second we
bouth realised it was time to leave, so we jumped in our cars mine being
more sporty I took off faster but I was keeping an eye on him I did not
want to loose him. Half way down the rd I realised that he was no
longer behiend me so I stopped my car and waited about 40 seconds later
I saw his lights comming around the turn so I started driving again.
After we got of the hill we went to my cousins house to drop of the car
when we were finaly driving in his house we starting talking about all
the events , I t turned out that there car died on them as they where
going around the turn and all the way down there was 3 loghts in a
triangular shape which followed them all the way until we lift the main
entrance of the park. That is wierd because all the way down I was
keeping an eye on the car and their lights was the only thing I could
see. The next day we went back and we couldnt fiend eany sighns of
eanything.....like I said it might not be as scary as the rest but at the time it
scared the heck out of us
I never really believed in ghost before I went to visit a friend of mine. She owns the Bell Witch Cave farm. I had heard of the legend but just didn't believe in any of that stuff. One day I took my son Tim there to see the cave. Like I said didn't really think nothing would happen. So later on we started calling the ghost out. I'll never do that again. Chris was showing Tim around in the cave while I was video tapeing some cracks in the walls to get some of the pretty formations on tape. And at the same time we were calling her out. Well I got my son to hold the flashlight in a big crack in the wall. When I did this at first there was nothing there. But when I looked back in the viewfinder I was really shook up. At first it looked like a guy but it was a young girl with long hair all in white. She slowly floated towards me. I took my eyes away from the camera and couldn't believe what I was seeing. My son seen her to it scared him so bad he took off to were Chris was. It seems as
if she just appeared to let us know she was there. Later in the back of the cave my son was looking in some of the holes in the backroom, when he yelled out he had seen something looking back at him that had green eyes. That scared him so bad he left the cave without us. This place is very haunted. Since then we have heard voices, but sometimes you can't make out what they are saying. And we have heard running through the water, like a person would do. I show complete respect when I go there now. Because I know the spirits are real.
Jean
Dear Dave & Sharon,
I have a number of ghost stories. The most detailed one, started one evening
when I was about 14 or 15. Myself and three of my friends were going to visit
a friend that lived in a nearby town. We had been discussing ghosts and such
and 2 of my friends didn't believe I could really see ghosts (I had seen some
before this). They decided to put me to the test and stop at a rural cemetary
that had a reputation of being haunted. When we got there, they turned the
car around so we could make a quick get away if necessary and we got out. It
was about dusk but still light enough to see. I walked around slowly looking
around and suddenly I got a feeling of absolute terror. I quickly looked up
and around and saw on the other side of the cemetary, about 50 ft away, a
figure. I was almost frozen with terror at the apparition but I managed to
grab the arm of my friend. He noticed something was wrong and looked where I
was looking. We both saw the same thing, a large man in a red flannel shirt
with overalls holding a shotgun. And the most horrifying thing--he was
headless. As I was getting my friends to leave, I turned to look at him one
more time and I saw him raise the gun. He actually shot at us a couple of
times. One 'bullet' actually pierced the back of the car. When it was taken
in for repair though the bullet could not be found. Noone had been near the
car after it was hit. And no one could have been near the cemetary without us
knowing it. We would have seen them coming and heard their vehicle. We still
won't go back there.
Monopoly Game
by Gerald Curran kilt@earthlink.net
Dear Ghost Hunters,
The very first time some strange ghost-like thing happened to me, was
when I was at my friend's house, when I was about 13 or 14 years old. My
friend, I'll call her "Tamera" (because I'm not sure if she wants this
story on the web, I won't use her or her mother's real name), had invited
me over to spend the night at her house. Tamera and her mom, "Sheryl",
live on some property up the the hills, with 3 houses: The one they live
in and the two they put up for rent. Once, while nobody was renting one
of the houses, Tamera and I decided to get the Monopoly game out and play
it in the empty house. Now, Tamera and Sheryl say that all three houses
on their property are haunted by Sheryl's grandfather, which I think is
true because you can sence his presence there. It's not like a feeling
that your being watched or your not alone, it's just that you can sence
that he's there. This is usually what the ghost does: Whenever somebody
rents one of the houses on Tamera and Sheryl's property, the ghost will
decide if he thinks the people who rented it should live there. If he
thinks they shouldn't, he'll move stuff around the house, open doors and
turn on TVs and stuff like that. Or if he approves of them, he'll leave
them alone. Any way, Tamera and I played Monopoly in the unoccupied
house. That was not only my first haunting experience, but it was also
the first time I ever played Monopoly! I kept getting confused by all the
rules, and soon we had a small agrument about it. I guess you could call
it a fight because we had to shout to get our piont across, but after the
rules made sence to me, we were friends agian. But I guess Tamera's
great-grandfather didn't like how I started an argument over nothing his
house. I had brought one of my games over to her house, and when we woke
up the next morning, different pieaces from MY game were scattered on
different floors of her house. I know Tamera wasn't playing a trick on me
because if she did, she'd start laughing with in the next 5 minutes, but
that didn't happen. I know, not a real good ghost story, but when it
happened at the time, it certanly scared me.
Maeve Curran
MaeveVC@aol.com
In February of 1991 my Grandmother (to whom I was very close) passed away
after a short battle with cancer. My Grandmother was the center of my
Grandfather’s world. He lived and breathed for her, and after her death it
was very very hard for him.
My family is very close and we were all very concerned for my Grandfather.
We were afraid he would eventually grieve himself to death. But finally
after much help we were able to get him up and out and back on his way
again. He was doing well except 26 months after my Grandmother past away
my Grandfather was diagnosed with an aneurysm in his main aorta. The
doctors felt he was strong enough and that the aneurysm could be repaired.
My Grandfather was admitted to the hospital for what we knew was going to
be a very intense and serious surgery. The day before his surgery he was
in his room and I was there with him and my Mother. They asked me to go
back to his house (he did not live too far from the hospital) to get his
reading glasses so he could read the news paper and watch television while
in the hospital.
I went to get them and entered the house as normal. I went to his bedroom
and had the glasses in my hand and was heading down the hall and into the
living room to leave the way I had come in (through the garage). As I
entered the living room a strong floral scent hit me. I stopped dead in my
tracks and looked around. No other women had been in the house and I was
not wearing any perfume that smelled that way.
I was just standing there a bit confused. I turned around and went back
down the hall to see if I could smell it there as well. I returned to my
Grandparents room and still could not smell it. I walked back out of their
room and was half way down the hall when *WOOSH* it hit me again. A very
strong floral smell.
I was a little scared and confused as I walked back into the living room,
the smell still everywhere. Then just as soon as it appeared it was gone.
I was standing in the entrance between the breakfast area and the living
area and could smell nothing. I went back down the hall, back into the
bedroom and made a path through the house. No smell. I searched the light
sockets thinking perhaps it was a "glade plug in air freshener" but found
none.
It was then that the reality hit me. As I was a teenager (and even now)I
had studied the paranormal and the occult. I remembered reading that when
an evil spirit is present sometimes a strong rancid odor can be smelt and
when there is a good spirit present an sweet odor can be smelt.
I knew then and there it was my Grandmother. She was there with us (my
family) as we were about to go through this difficult time with my
Grandfather. I returned to the hospital and gave my Grandfather his
reading glasses but told no one of what occurred. I was just happy she was
near.
The surgery did not go well.. it did not go well at all. When they began
they found my Grandfather had 5 aneurysms in his main aorta and not the
estimated one. The largest one was the size of a football and the smallest
one the size of an orange. They worked and worked on my Grandfather for
hours. He came out of the surgery but would not wake up. My family soon
took up residency in the ICU family waiting room. Waiting and waiting for
any news on my Grandfathers condition.
One night (it had been about 10 days now and nothing changed) my father was
peeking thought the ICU room doors into the area where the patients were
(the family was only permitted into that area during certain times). He
returned rather quickly to my Mother’s side. His face was pale, he was
sweating and his hands were shaking. My Mother asked him what was wrong
and he refused to tell her saying,
"Nothing is wrong, I'm just tired".
The next day the doctor came to the family and advised us that he felt my
Grandfather would not recover. He asked us if we would make a decision...
a decision to remove the life support machine and allow my Grandfather the
peace he deserved. We all came to an agreement that this would be best and
so it was done. My Mother told me (for I refused to be there when it was
done) that he did not suffer. He simply just stopped living after the
tubes were removed. No pain. Just nothing.
We buried my Grandfather three days later. It was not until a couple of
months afterwards that we learned exactly why my Father had been so upset
that night when he returned from peeking thought the ICU windows.
Now you must understand. My father is not the sort to believe in Ghosts.
He does not believe in things you can not explain. He grew up in a very
religions home (his father was a preacher) and just did not believe in
Ghostly happenings etc... etc..
He began to tell us (my Mother and I) what it was that shocked him so badly
that evening. He said that as he peeked though the windows he saw my
Grandmother walking down the hall facing the window he was looking through,
turn and go into my Grandfathers room. He said he knew it was her. It was
not visiting hours and the room was directly in front of the nurses
station. Had it been someone going into the room a nurse would have
stopped them because relatives were only allowed back there at certain
times and when they were allowed back there they had to be led in by a
nurse. So there was no way it was anyone else. He was 100% certain it was
my Grandmother.
It was then that I told them my story of the Floral Scent the day I went
to my Grandparents house to get my Grandfathers glasses. My Mother (being a
sensitive) just sat there calmly shaking her head a soft smile on her face.
She told us that we did smell and see my Grandmother, of that she was
certain. She said she was there to watch over my Grandfather and when she
saw he was not going to make it she came to claim him that night (the same
night my father saw him, the night before the "decision" was made).
I am certain several people could give us logical explanations for what I
smelled and what my Father saw, but we like to believe it was my
Grandmother watching and waiting.
Dear Dave & Sharon
Thank you so much for this page! I am a fellow researcher with a story to
tell. I had experienced 'odd' occurrences throughout my life, and with
that, had pursued my fascination since the time I could read. I would
include myself with investigations and Haunted house tours whenever I got
the chance, but the night of October 30th, 1991 was particularly
remarkable.
My husband and I were touring the annual Capitol Hill Haunted House Tour,
and were enjoying the historical, but not particularly spooky homes in the
mansion district. Most of the homes had been converted into apartments or
offices, some like the famous "Molly Brown House" into museums. They were
full of story tellers and fun, but no real disturbances that I could tell.
Then we came to the Croake Patterson Campbell Mansion.
It is a 19th century French Chateau style home, complete with spires and
gargoyles. It does look the part, and as such was attracting a lot of
visitors. My husband and I waited our turn to get in (they only allowed
groups of about 50) and talked to the guide about the home. There was a for
sale sign in front, and we inquired about the price. The guide told us it
had been on the market for about 5 years, and most tenants (it was now
office space) broke their lease terms when they were rented.
Armed with
this information, and interest piqued, we crossed the vestibule. It was
like walking into a different climate zone! The air was thicker, and almost
charged. At first I attributed the change to the volume of people going
through, but changed my mind as I continued into the house. It was empty,
and most of the original woodwork and fixtures appeared to have been left.
I felt compelled towards the basement, and noticed people coming up as I
went down.
Some were laughing and scaring each other, while others were
visibly shaken. One man was pale and sweaty, and he looked upset. I entered
the basement, and was surprised to find that it was completely renovated.
New carpet, drywall and fixtures. Though the newer surroundings were
lovely, I was decidedly uncomfortable. I was drawn to the side of the
basement that wasn't finished yet, and found my way to a small "closet"
area.
There was a guide talking to a man in the doorway, and she motioned
for me to go past her into the room. It was about 3x3, with a dirt floor,
and part of an exposed brick wall. There was a hole at the base of the
brick 'column' and some ironwork scattered inside. The moment I put my foot
inside the room, I was deeply affected by whatever the presence was. I felt
nausea, and overwhelming sadness. Every hair on my body stood up, and I
could not move for at least a minute. I started to cry, but not out of
fear. The grief that I felt was unbearable. I got out quickly as soon as I
could move. The guide looked at my face and said "oh, you felt it too."
I
learned that mediums had gone through the house and focused on that spot as
the source of a young girl's spirit. I also found out that a woman had
committed suicide in the house as a result of the death of her infant son,
also in the house. After my encounter, (as there is no other was to
describe it) I suffered horrible nightmares and violent dreams of my own
death and the deaths of people I could not identify.
An interesting footnote is that I was talking about this experience one day
to a colleague at work. A woman I had never talked to before heard our
conversation, and asked If I'd heard of the Croake Mansion! (she missed the
first part of the tale) She relayed that when she was pregnant, she went on
the same tour about five years prior. She said that she was in the
"nursery"area of the home and felt what she thought was a portal. She
walked past the closet door and was enveloped by a cold spot that 'breezed'
through her. She was convinced that this was the most haunted house in
Denver. Today the house is still for sale, and has changed hands several
times since our visit. It is a case I would love to see investigated, if
you have the interest!
Easton Witch
by Pam Risley at randomoak@msn.com
Dear Dave and Sharon:
This is my second email to you today! The first to congratulate you on a fine web-site and now this one, to share my own paranormal experience.......
In the early 1980's I attended college in Switzerland. The building that housed our small college had been, alternately, a lavish hotel, an Institute for those suffering from tuberculosis, a hotel again and finally, a college. I knew that the building had a sordid history, but never felt uncomfortable in any part of it, unlike my roomate Kate, who would wake in the night to see an apparition standing over her bed dressed in elegant dinner attire and wearing what she described as a menacing expression. I never once saw Kate's ghost nor did I feel any presence whatsoever. I've always felt that people need to be receptive to certain energies in order to "see" an entity, and perhaps this is why none appeared to me before the spring of 1994. You see, it was then that I entered a 12-step program to deal with my alcoholism, there-by opening spiritual doors which, until then, had been locked and bolted. It was not only a new spiritual foothold i was experiencing, but a fresher, more ope
n way of life for me. My mind was free and i can only guess that with this freedom, came the ability to recieve energy.
My husband, son and I had moved back to Connecticut from Nebraska in August of '93. Not wishing to purchase a home until the other one sold, we rented a small condo and spent our weekends looking a various properties around the area. When i saw the 1750 saltbox Colonial in Easton, I knew this was the house i wanted. It's wide-plank floors and walk-in fireplaces appealed to me, as did the lush and private property it sat on. With great timing, the house in Nebraska sold and we bought the house in Easton just after the New Year, 1994.
The first room i decided to redecorate was my son's, about a month after we moved in. I ripped out a section of a wall to enlarge a closet and made repairs to the wood floor, before adding a new carpet and wall-paper. It was around this time that my son started complaining of the "woman in the corner". I really thought nothing of it at the time and chalked it up to my three-year-old's wonderful imagination. Kate (the college roomate) came to visit our new home and also spoke of a shrouded figure after her first night in the guestroom, and insisted upon spending the rest of her stay sleeping on the couch in the den. Again, I couldn't see or feel anything and put it out of my mind.
Shortly after this, I entered a re-hab center, and spent the next six weeks away from home. Upon my return, embracing my new-found sobriety and feeling a sence of serenity, I noticed immediately that something within my household had shifted and that I was not alone. All of a sudden, I felt followed and watched. I wondered if I was experiencing some sort of paranoia due to my recovery from alcoholism, or if perhaps I was just becoming more sensitive to things around me.
One day i was in the guest room, clearing a closet out and getting ready to resume my redecorating. I heard distinctly my name being called from downstairs, and rushed down thinking it was a neighbor stopping in. Finding no one, I went back up the stairs. Halfway up I glanced into the guest room and, standing in the corner was the unmistakeable figure of a woman wearing a long brown cloak, facing me. I did a double take and now the figure had turned, facing the wall. I stood, rooted halfway up the staircase, not daring to breathe. Out of habit I said the serenity prayer, and when I got to the word "courage" the figure started to dissipate. I remained on the stairs for some time, holding tightly to the banister before heading back down the stairs to call my AA sponsor.
My sponsor had been a life long Easton resident and was familiar with local history and legends. Being somewhat new aquaintences, I had never before had reason to tell her where I lived. After I told her what had just happened to me, she asked me where I lived and when I told her she let out a sigh. Apparently, my home was part of a property owned by a "hag" back in the early 1700's, a reputed witch, a hermit. After her husband was killed at sea, she went crazy, killing her livestock, and cursing those on the surrounding farms. She lived out the rest of her life alone, at the swampy foot of the property, known as the Easton Witch.
Did she appear to me? And why? Had my sobriety opened some sort of door? Was she "the woman in the corner" my son and friend spoke of? I'll never know. Although i continued to feel "watched" and "followed" I never saw the apparition again. We moved to Pennsylvania a year later and sold to house to a lovely couple from New York. I've often thought of calling, just to see how they're doing and how they like the house................
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Copyrighted 1997 by Dave Oester