Favorite Ghost Stories

Subject: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Áine
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 03:57 PM

We've still got a few days until Halloween -- Does anyone have a favorite ghost story they'd like to share?

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: kendall
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 04:11 PM

This is not a ghost story. it is true. it happened to me. Afriend of mine owns an old house that was a stop on the underground railway before the civil war. I was visiting him, he was showing me an empty room that he was making into a bathroom. The door was shut, there were two people in that room, and I was looking right at him. I heard an odd sound behind me, looked down, and, a penny came rolling across the floor OUT OF A BLANK WALL!! I picked it up and asked, "Where did that come from?" he said, I dont know, it happens often. I have a big jar of them. To make matters even more spooky, it was an Indian Head penny. This is only one incident that took place there, but, it is the only one that I saw with my own eyes. He finally told me that a murder had been committed in the cellar.Absolutely true story.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ely
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 04:40 PM

This isn't actually a ghost story, but it's still pretty weird. The date in question occurred (obviously) before my time, probably around 1974.

My parents were out on a date and started talking about strange things that had happened to them. My father told my mother about a hike he had been on while backpacking in Nepal. He stopped for a rest and immediately became aware of a "force" in front of, and a little above, him. He wasn't sure how to describe it--he couldn't see anything and he couldn't actually touch it, but he knew that there was something there. He said he got the impression of a big ball of energy. My mother told about the death of her mother, which happened when Mom was 22 (in 1970). She said she had sensed Grandma's spirit leave her body, and felt the body "settle". As each talked more about their experiences, they came to the realization that they had happened at just about the same time (meaning that Dad felt the "force" at the same time Grandma's spirit left her body). My parents had not yet met each other at the time these things occurred.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Áine
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 05:17 PM

Great job so far guys!! Here's my contribution -- and of course, it's all TRUE . . .

Here's one that my father used to tell every Halloween – It's not really a ghost story; but it scared the beejeesus out of me and my sister for years! Of course, he swore up and down that it was all true . . .

During World War II, my dad was in the Army, stationed at Los Alamos, New Mexico. That's right, the place where they put together the Bomb. Anyway, since he had been a policeman in Waco before he was drafted, he was assigned to 'dog', as he called it, one of the 'fellas' working at the facility. Now, this wasn't really a covert activity, since the 'fella' knew that my dad was following him any time he went off the base. In fact, my dad said that the two of them got to be downright friendly and even shared a few drinks at the local watering hole. My dad even knew this guy's lady friend to say hello to.

One night, my dad said this fella started drinking pretty heavy and early, which wasn't like him at all. It was as if there was something terrible on his mind – he sat at the bar, knocking back the whiskies, and muttering to himself about 'having to be there soon.' My dad was getting pretty nervous, because of course, he was going to have report this behavior to his superiors, and he didn't really want to get this guy into any more trouble than he seemed to be in already.

Suddenly, this guy jumped off the bar stool and lurches out the door. Dad followed him and sees him drive off down the road. So of course, Dad follows him. The fella was weaving all over the place and then suddenly drove off the main road into the desert. My dad was right behind him, thinking he was going to be bringing a dead drunk back to the base if this guy didn't calm down. The guy's car slammed on its brakes and so did Dad. Dad saw a woman come out of nowhere, open the car door and get in. The guy took off again into the desert, with my dad right behind him. After about ten minutes, the guy slammed on his brakes again and stopped. Dad stopped too, but something told him to stay in his jeep.

Nothing happened. This fella and this woman just sat there, not even talking. After a few minutes more, my dad figured it was time to go talk to them and get this guy back to the base. As my dad started to climb out of the jeep, he saw the two heads in the car in front of him slowly turn around and stare at him.

He never would say what he saw in that car that night. But he did say that he spent a few weeks peeling potatoes and picking up cigarette butts out of the sand, because he refused to 'dog' that fella ever again.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 07:03 PM

Aine, about time he TOLD you!!! I wanna know!**BG**

We had an earlier thread, I think in the early part of this month, with some ghost stories in it. I had one living in my house in CT; quite benign, kind of sad. Always unlatched the attic door and let the cats up there to play. Also, one night it took the birdcage covers off, unlocked the front door and turned on all of the lights. Onenight it came down the front stairs and said my soon-to-be-son-in-law's name. He ran up the backstairs, he was so startled.

In another house in Northampton, MA, a lady in Victorian clothing came in to our bedroom one night and sat in my rocking chair. I had a hard time convincing her to leave as I knew Rog would be coming in from his bath, in the nude, soon, and that she would be shocked. As the hoouse was very old and had been a schoolhouse, I've always wondered if she was an oldtime school teacher.

Anybody ever read any M. R. James ghost stories? The absolute scariest, BEST ever written! Whistle and I'll Come For You, My Lad; The 13th Floor; Canon Albric's Scrapbook....priceless, everyone of them.

katlaughing

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Áine
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 07:41 PM

Dear kat,

Unfortunately, Daddy died at the grand old age of 81 last year without ever revealing the 'secret of Los Alamos.' I'll tell you this though; he was a stubborn, red headed Irish ex-cop and ex-fighter, who couldn't tell a lie. He could exagerate (of course), but he always had a little grin on his face when he did. He NEVER had that grin on when he told this story . . .

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Banjer
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 07:50 PM

True experience...I was about 16 years old at the time...Myself and two friends, Jimmy and Grant, were riding in Grant's pickup truck. We were on our way to check on some scrap metal that we had been told about. Grant was the oldest and was driving. Jimmy sat in the middle and I was next to the window. The skies had started to cloud up and bring a storm as was common at that time of the summer. A light mist was starting. On both sides of the road were woods, if you can call the collection of palms, pines, scrub oaks and other foilage we have in Florida woods. All of a sudden out of the corner of my eye I detected a movement. It seemed to be a man on horseback, reining up sharp upon spotting us. A closer look revealed what seemed to be a Civil War soldier, a Confederate officer, on horseback. Just as suddenly as he had appeared, he vanished. I just stared straight ahead for a while. I wasn't going to say "Guess what I just saw!" and be laughed at for the next week. No way, not these two, they wouldn't let me live it down. It occured to me that no one had said anything for a while. I looked over at the other two and both their faces were white a a sheet! "What the hell is wrong with you two?" I asked. And then it dawned on me, I wasn't the only one that had seen what I thought I saw! They had seen it too! After comparing notes we all three agreed we had seen basically the same thing. It has been 34 years since that day, Grant has since passed away, and Jimmy and I lost contact some twenty years ago, but it is as clear in my mind as it was just yesterday.

Several theories were offered when we finaly got up nerve to tell others about it. Theories ranging from some sort of time warp occuring just as the soldier was himself passing over to we had been smoking something that made us think it. But all three of us were stone cold sober that day.

Further investigation revealed that some sort of a skirmish or raid had taken place in that area during the waning days of the Recent Unpleasantness. I don't know to this day what to believe, but I KNOW what I saw!

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Mbo
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 09:10 PM

Great stories, guys! Kat, what was that other thread of ghost stories you mentioned?

--Mbo

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 09:21 PM

Aine, I am sorry to hear that. A redhead and Irish, you say?! Hmmm, MY dad always teased my mom about the Irish redheaded gentleman down the hall when I was conceived!**BG** What he didn't go on to say was the red on the head came from his own Scottish mother.

I love a mystery, so I guess I'll have to live with that one. But, I would love to know what YOU think he saw. Am I being really obstinate and thickheaded here? Sorry.

Banjer, here's an old family story which will be published in a family book that I am working on. It akes place during the Civil War or War of the Rebellion, depending on where you live. (Never heard it called that until I moved to YankeeLand.*BG*

The Ghost At the Crossing of the Stream
© Hudson Family Trust/ all rights reserved

My ancestor, Capt. Forsyth, was a Confederate spy, who got caught out one time, across enemy lines and was running for his life, horse full out with Union soldiers hot on his trail. He came to a fairly good sized stream which he had to ford, but noticed an eerie looking object of white across the stream, moaning and kind of moving around. Being a somewhat superstitious sort, he hesitated to go across. There had been talk about that particular place being haunted by a woman whose carriage had overturned, drowning her.

He looked before him and he looked behind him. The Union was getting closer by the minute and he knew he had to either take his chances with the *ghost*, still moaning and slowly swaying in the misty early evening light or fight and die facing the soldiers.

Urging his horse on, which was also reluctant about meeting the spectre, he crossed the stream, just ahead of the bullets, to find an old white cow, swaying back and forth, moaning while she chewed her cud! Thanks to his *bravery*, my greatgrandma came into being, then my granddad, dad and then me. We still have the Colt 45 cap and ball pistol he used, which he took off of a dead Union officer; some Confederate money, and a pass for his wife to safely go through enemy lines, which has her identifying features printed in the proper boxes. Thankfully, we know she didn't have a moustache because there was no description of it in the appropriate place!

I've another funny one from the Old South. I will post when I have time. kat

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Mbo
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 09:47 PM

Well, here's my contribution... My grandfather used to tell this true story to my mother when she was little, and she in turn told it to my sisters and I. Here it is: when my grandfather was young (circa early 1920's) he used to hang out with the neighbor kids (my grandfather's name was Velivelo Loro, the child of Italian immigrants, but his buds called him "Willy Jones.") As he and his friends were walking home one day, they happened to pass by an very old house (there are many in Philadelphia) which was vacant. One of his friends said that no one lived in the house because it was haunted, and that they should run till the scary house was far behind them. My grandfather said "Aw, that house isn't haunted, you're crazy!" But his friends insisted that it was. To relieve their fears, he said "There's no ghosts in their, and I'll prove it to you. I'm going to spend the night in there--this very night! And if you'll come around at about 9:00pm, I'll stand in front of the windows and wave to you, to show that there are no ghosts to get me." His friends thought he was insane, but agreed to come at 9 to see if he was all right. When grandpop got home, he got his sleeping things together and made ready for his night in the haunted house. At 9, his friends came, waiting for "Willy" to wave from the upstairs window, and show he was OK. As they looked at the window expectantly, there appeared a ghostly white form, undulating silently before their eyes. His friends screamed "A ghost!!! It must have got him!! Let's get out of here!!" meanwhile my grandfather stood in front of the window, laughing, and removed a white sheet from over his head. They said there was a ghost, so he gave them a ghost! But his merry mood was cut short when he got home, and his mother punished him for cutting 2 holes in one of her best sheets with scissors!

Buona Sera -- Mbo

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 10:26 PM

This is an interesting true story.

About three years ago, a local radio station in Denver called KOA was inviting people to come on air with any strange or supernatural experiences. A man who was a Navy veteran of World War 2 told this story:

I was one of the many GIs who were sent across the Atlantic in 1943 to England, preparatory to the D-Day Invasion. We were quite frightened during this crossing. The ocean was very rough, but not rough enough to keep the U-Boat wolfpacks from picking off several troopships from our convoy. There was not much to do during the day but stand at the rail, smoking cigarettes and looking out to sea, trying to spot the conning towers of the German submarines among the long string of ships in the convoy.

At night, the lurching action of the boat made it difficult for us to sleep in our hammocks. We spent most of the night talking and playing cards. My hammock was slung by the bulkhead, and next to me was a Polish guy from Chicago named Stampowski. He was always seasick, spending most of the days outside by the rail, and his nights with a bucket close by under his bunk. On one particularly raw day we were all by the rail, braving the wind and waves that were hammering the ship, and keeping a respectful distance from Stampowski who was violently ill. He was leaning far across the rail when a 30 foot wave slammed the stern of the ship into a sharp sideways lunge. I was one of many who saw Stampowski drop into the sea, but our cries of "Man Overboard!" went unheeded, for ships in Convoy would not turn around for one man.

As I swung in my hammock that night, I'm sure I cast a glance at the empty hammock swinging next to me before drifting into sleep. It was near midnight when something awakened me, and looking over at Stampowski's hammock, I was sure that a dark shape was stretched out in it. As I squinted at the shape, I could make out a steady drip of water from somewhere near it. I lit a match and held it high, and was shocked to see Stampowski lying in his hammock, soaked with seawater. I was overjoyed at his escape, and jumped out of my hammock calling his name. As my feet hit the deck, I was shocked to find myself standing in a pool of seawater perhaps 2 inches deep, that ebbed and surged across the deck with the ship's motion. When I looked up again, the hammock was empty.

This was the Soldier's story, but the capper came about an hour afterwards when another fellow called the radio station with this tale:

I heard with interest the story of Private Stampowski, and was immediately struck by the name . I too was in that convoy, near the end of that long string of ships, on that night in 1943. It was near midnight when a sharp explosion in the darkness indicated one of our ships had been attacked and perhaps sunk ahead of us. We had nearly given up looking for any survivors, supposing that the ship had either gone down with all hands or had suffered only minor damage, when the searchlights revealed a man floating in the sea. He was taken aboard about midnight. His name was Edward Stampowski.

LEJ

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Les B
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 10:56 PM

When I was in my late teens we lived in an eighty year old ranch house in southern Montana. According to a younger cousin (who used to stay with my folks alot), and my wife, there was a ghost that inhabited the upstairs bedrooms of that house. The first time I brought my wife (then my girlfriend) home to meet my folks it was late and they had already gone to bed. My wife was put in one of those bedrooms, while I went to sleep on the porch (prim & proper 1960's!). During the night, my wife heard footsteps and felt a presence hovering near her bed. She thought it was my mother trying to get a look at the first girl I'd ever brought home, so my wife-to-be lay there with eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Several years later, after my wife knew my mother well enough to joke with her, this was brought up, and my mother said, no she hadn't been upstairs, it was probably the "ghost". My wife thought my mother was pulling her leg, but my cousin who was also present, then told my wife that on several occasions he had felt(had actually been punched) and even seen "something" (pretty evil looking) in those bedrooms. My wife was quite nonplused to think that she might have seen a ghost had she opened her eyes, but also wonders if she's not better off for not seeing "it"! I, however, slept for two years in one of those bedrooms and never saw a thing. But here is a connection to that story that really makes me ponder the supernatural. A few years ago at a family reunion, about six months after my dad passed away, the same cousin, now a grown man, told me this story. One of the times he saw the "ghost" he came downstairs looking pretty distraught. My dad -- a no nonsense cowboy who I never heard discuss religion or ghosts -- asked my cousin what was wrong. When my cousin told Dad he'd seen a ghost, my dad said, "Yeah, I saw one too, when I was a kid," and then went on to tell how, in 1915, when he was eight, he'd been asleep with his sister who was nine. He awoke and saw something standing at the foot of their bed. He whispered to his sister, "what's that ?" and she said "It's my friend who comes to visit." His sister died of a childhood disease just a few months later. In all his 81 years, my dad never told me, or my mother, this story about what he'd seen !

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: kendall
Date: 25 Oct 99 - 11:00 PM

You all must have read Robert Frost's THE NIGHT THE BONES CAME UP THE CELLAR STAIRS.. scary

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 26 Oct 99 - 12:49 AM

MBo(o)*G*, I think that it was actually two threads in late Sept, or early Oct, which had a few stories. A Tavern thread and a Campfire thread. I will try to fing them sometime tomorrow.

Great stories you guys! I've got a few more, but am tired so have to go sleep, that is, if I can after reading all of THESE!

katlaughing

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Charlie Baum
Date: 26 Oct 99 - 04:05 AM

Every Halloween, I sit on the front porch, waiting for trick-or-treaters, and reread Robert Frost's "The Witch of Coös," one of the truly great ghost stories.

It was about 10 years ago, on Halloween night, I was asleep in my bed, when I felt a presence come into the room and sit at the foot of my bed (the left side, near the door). It just sat there a while, and I was too groggy to wake up or open my eyes; I just felt the pressure weighing down and depressing the mattress to the left of my legs. It was a few days later that I received the phone call informing me that my friend Greg had died instantly in a car crash in St. Petersburg that night. It was probably his spirit travelling around saying goodbye to friends.

It was a few days before Halloween just last year that my brother-in-law Dick died suddenly of a heart attack, while in Quebec, Canada. It it difficult to bring a dead body back into the United States, so he was cremated in Canada, and his ashes were shipped back to New York state. They arrived home on October 31--Halloween evening. Now, Dick lived in an old, deconsecrated Catholic church, so we just put the ashes in their container up front on the altar. (He was an artist who used that space to paint). I was to sleep in his bed--in what had the choir loft or balcony at the back of the church. But before bedtime, we all sat around in a circle about the ashes, with a guitar, and sang for an hour or two, all of Dick's favorite songs. It felt like he was there, enjoying the singing. I have never gone to sleep so confident of expecting a visitation of a ghost (given the intersection of unburied remains present in the room, returning home in a deconsecrated church on Halloween evening), but apparently our song circle had made him feel welcome at home, and he let us sleep peacefully.

--Charlie Baum

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Charlie Baum
Date: 26 Oct 99 - 04:54 AM

Try to type the "Witch of Coos" with an umlaut over the second o, and forget to use the html codes, and weirdness happens!

--Charlie Baum

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Bert
Date: 01 Nov 99 - 01:55 PM

When Lou was dying of lymphoma I used to lie next to her in bed and I'd be awake half the night listening to hear if she was still breathing.

After she'd gone, I awoke with a start at about two O'Clock one morning. I could hear her breathing next to me. When I turned over, of course she wasn't there.

Bert.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Sep 00 - 06:58 PM

some good stories in here

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ebbie
Date: 29 Sep 00 - 09:10 PM

In the mid-80's, I was doing home care for a man who'd had a stroke. He'd been widowed 12 years- a Mormon woman who'd converted him, he said. After his stroke, his family had remodeled the attached garage into his bedroom to accommodate his wheelchair.

I slept in his old bedroom upstairs. One night, I was reading in bed when I became aware that there was a female form at the far upper left of the king-size bed. While I watched, it/she moved around the corner of the bed and stood at the foot of the bed looking at me. Knowing she and Wayne had had a happy marriage, I smiled at her and turned off my light and went to sleep. Mind you, I didn't see her with my physical eyes- it was more like a force field.

A couple of months later, Wayne's girlfriend moved in (And his Mormon conscience smote him mightily.)along with her 16-year-old son, and I switched to coming in daily just to do range of motion exercises and to help him walk. The son took 'my' bedroom, the one that had belonged to Wayne and his wife.

One weekend Wayne and his girlfriend went to the coast for the weekend and I was to come to his home on Monday. On Monday morning, I rang the bell and thumped on the door but no one was home. Somewhat miffed, I went home.

Later that day I got a call from the girlfriend. She said her son had been sleeping in his VW bug and hadn't heard me thumping at the door.

Turned out that he had quite a story. He told his mother that a tall, slender woman had come to the foot of his bed in the middle of the night and looked at him. He was so freaked out that he grabbed his clothes and fled outdoors to his cramped little car where he slept the rest of the night.

While granting that his wife had been tall and slender, Wayne didn't 'believe for a minute' that it was she; he said that as a good Mormon she wouldn't/couldn't return.

You tell me.

Ebbie

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: SINSULL
Date: 29 Sep 00 - 10:18 PM

Sad story:
I rented an apartment that had been previously rented by a young Asian couple. He worked at a restaurant in Manhattan. She was pregnant for the first time. One night, he was shot to death as he left the restaurant.
I moved in a few months later. The upstairs bedroom had an outside wall - no pipes, no doors. But every night about 3AM there would be a tremendous bang that would wake me. I could never figure it out. One night, the bang woke me and I saw that the shade on a lamp across the room was vibrating, actually ringing. I got up and grabbed it. The sound stopped and the lamp next to my bed took over. I grabbed it and the first lamp started vibrating again. I shouted "Stop it!". And that was the end. His baby was born that night. I never heard the bang or anything odd again.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Mbo
Date: 29 Sep 00 - 10:23 PM

Sins, you have stamina of steel. I think I would have taken a heart attack.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Hotspur
Date: 29 Sep 00 - 10:37 PM

A couple of years ago I went to a Renaissance Faire in NY State, and stayed over night with my cousins. They lived in an apartment in part of an old house near Ithaca. Since it was an apartment, I got to sleep on the sofa in the living room. I should mention that I'm rather sensitive to atmosphere, but even though I'd been in that room several times, I'd never felt anything odd there before. Well, I fell asleep all right, but in the middle of the night I woke up with a start. I heard a sort of rustling, like someone flipping through the pages of a book, right underneath the window. I remember thinking, "What is that cat doing?" It was quite loud and repeated once, the stopped completely. I was half-asleep (but not fully asleep!) at the time, so I just turned over and went back to sleep. It wasn't till I woke up in the morning that I remembered my cousins don't have any pets. When I mentioned it to my cousin, she just nodded and said they thought that one of the previous occupants hadn't quite left.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Sep 00 - 11:25 PM

The Picnic

I used to be a traveling salesman and Montana was part of my sales territory. My route took me through a section of the Blackfeet Reservation, and I always noticed the white metal crosses on stakes that are placed along the sides of the road. The reservation authorities place these crosses in spots where traffic fatalities have occurred, as memorials but also to keep travelers mindful of the dangers of this winding two-lane road. Unfortunately alcoholism is a major problem on the reservation, and fatalities are all too common.

In the summer of 1989, I was driving this route when I realized my gas gauge was nearly empty. I continued on for nearly 30 miles with the needle pegged on "E", when I saw a sign for a small town 4 miles off of the main road. I made the turn and headed toward this small town, hoping for a gas station.It was late afternoon, and very hot. I rounded a curve in this very narrow road when I saw a group of about 8 people sitting in the grass on a low hill near the road. At this point the road crossed a small creek, and I was shocked to see a blue flat-bed truck on it's side, the left front quarter of the cab crushed against the concrete bridge abutment. I pulled over behind the truck, my heart pounding because I knew that some of these people must be badly injured. But as I looked up at them, they seemed completely calm, sitting with coolers and picnic baskets and blankets spread out. In fact, they didn't even notice me.

I called out through the passenger window "Do you need help? Is everyone ok?" A tall Indian dressed in dusty jeans, a red plaid shirt and ball cap stood up slowly and turned toward me. He was about 20 feet from me, but I could see his face quite clearly. His eyes were glazed and his mouth hung open, and he seemed to not really be looking at me. I said to myself "he's drunk", but I felt a cold chill run up my neck and grab my scalp. He said nothing."Is there a gas station around here?" I asked.His right hand rose slowly and pointed down the road."About a mile and a half," he said."I can ride along and show you."

I was certain that I didn't want this guy in my car."That's ok. I'll find it." And I drove off. Watching in my rear view mirror, I saw him sit down slowly. Before long I came to a small grocery with a gas pump in front. Before pumping my gas, I went in and told the Indian attendant that there was a blue truck wrecked at the bridge and there might be injuries. He looked up sharply and stared at me for a few seconds."There's nothing you can do about that blue truck," he said. Puzzled, I went out and pumped my gas. I went in and paid."Maybe we should call the police to be on the safe side," I said. He looked at me for another long spell."He ask you for a ride?" said the attendant. I was too stunned to answer."That'd be a bad idea, givin him a ride."

My throat was quite dry as I neared the bridge, going back to the highway. I had just turned on my headlights when I saw the glint of the reflectors on the abutment. But there was no wreck. And there were no picnickers on the grassy knoll by the creek. There was nothing there but eight white metal crosses, on rusting stakes shoved in the ground.

LEJ

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Rich(bodhránai gan ciall)
Date: 30 Sep 00 - 12:49 AM

I got this from the telling of my storytelling teacher, Alan Irvine, about 4 years ago.


The young couple met in college, during his junior and her sophomore year. Over the next year they dated, fell in love, and got engaged. It was decided that they would wait until she graduated and sure enough, shortly after graduation they tied the knot. Well it was a long ceremony and reception, both having come from large families., By the time they had spent the obligitory visit with all the guests and were free to leave for their honeymoon, it was quite late. They had planned romantic weekend at a quaint little lodge, way back in the mountains. Well it was late, the road was dark, and they were paying more attention to each other anyway, so sure, enough they wound up halfway off the road in a ditch. The young man tried to push the car out but to no avail, and as if the night wasn't going poorly enough, it started to snow. They looked up ahead and thought they could see a light off in the distance. The young man said that there was no sense in both of them roaming in the woods, if she wanted to curl up in the car and stay warm he'd go up and get help, and she could get some well-needed rest. They pulled the wedding quilt her grandmother had made them out of the trunk and the young woman curled up in the back seat and tried to sleep. The young man slipped the keys in his pocket and headed towards the light which he assumed was a cottage to see if he could call a tow truck. The woman pulled the quilt up over her head and tried to put the sounds of a snowstorm in the forest out of her head. The wind howled, and the branches creaked and the the sound of the snow falling out of the branches on the car made the hair on the back of neck stand on end, but at last she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. She awoke with a start although she could not tell why. She was sure it had been a long time since her husband had left, too long. The storm had slowed down but still the wind blowing through the trees made them creak and the snow from the branches fell around the car with a soft pat-pat-pat.....but THAT was no snow falling on the hood! She listened to the sounds outside. A thump(snow), a howl(the wind...)a laugh(...in the branches), a faint tinkling sound(maybe icicles falling from the trees). But maybe not. Was someone out there? She could stand it no longer. She peeked out from under the quilt, and looke out the left window. There was nothing there. Out the right, nothing. out he back nothing, still. At last, she looked over the back seat and through the wind shield she saw a withered old woman, sitting on the hood, laughing. In one hand she held a cleaver with blood still dripping form it. Cradled in her lap was the newlywed groom's head and jingling away in her other hand were the keys to the car.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 30 Sep 00 - 01:32 AM

OOOOooo, that is a wicked story, Rich! That'd be good around campfire!

LeeJ, chills up and down my spine. Thanks for sharing that. Sure glad you didn't give him a ride. We have white wooden crosses along the two lanes up here. I will always thing of "The Picnic" when I see them, now.

kat

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: WyoWoman
Date: 30 Sep 00 - 05:52 PM

OOh. These are good. We should do a compilation book as a fundraiser for the 'Cat.

I'll edit.

ww

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Harold W
Date: 30 Sep 00 - 11:29 PM

I can't top most of your stories, but here is a strange incident...

About 30 or so years ago, when we were still living in Colorado, my wife and I and a couple of our children were sitting in the living room when there was a crash from the kitchen. We went out to the kitchen to see a stack of unbroken plates in the middle of the floor. The cabinet door was open, but the plates weren't near it.

Nobody else had occupied the house as we build it ourselves on a parcel of land that had no building on it before and it was at least 1,000 feet from any other homes.

My father had died of a heart attack while working on the house, but it seemed a strange way for him to contact us. There was never another incident since.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Mbo
Date: 30 Sep 00 - 11:45 PM

I have one, sorta, and I know everyone's gonna laugh, but it's God's honest truth!!

We were still in Okinawa, at our little house at 22nd Marines Drive, on Camp Courtney. This was 1995.

We had decided to go get pizza for dinner at the PX down the road. My dad was in the hallway putting his shoes on, and I was standing in the doorway adjoining the hallway with the dining room. My mom & sisters we in the kitchen, which was like 3 feet away. My mom opened a new stack of paper plates, and as I turned to go into the hallway, I saw my sister put the stack on the table (it was a long table) and slide them toward the center.

When me and my Dad got back with the pizza, we put them on the table. But something was missing. "Hey" I said "where is the new stack of paper plates you put out?" "On the table." was the reply. But only they WEREN'T anymore. In fact, we could not find them ANYWHERE. And we never did. During those 15 minutes we were gone, my mom & sisters were in the living room watching TV. No one had gone been in the kitchen since we had left. The plastic wrapped we had taken off them was still in the trash can...there WAS a stack of paper plates, but they just disappeared off the face of the earth. It really rattled us. Sometimes I think when I least expect it, a stack of paper plates is going to appear infront of me. But then again, that wasn't the only strange occurance in that house...

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 01:19 AM

Ha! You better watch out for that stack of plates, Mbo! That's a good one. 'Spose someone was offended that you weren't using the *good* china?

My brother had a glass rose bowl on a table in his room when he lived with us. One day, we found it sitting on the floor in the hallway around the corner from his room, just sitting there. None of us had been home; none of the animals was that dexterous. We've no explanation; some ideas, but no solid explanation.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Lyrical Lady
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 02:20 AM

Just last week, I was lent over the kitchen counter having a good cry, when I felt the comforting hands of my father on my back and a soft breeze blowing away my tears. I quickly composed myself when I heard my daughter calling from the stairs, "Mom" she cried "Papa is upstairs watching TV"! The next day I phoned my mother to tell her that Dad had stopped by for a visit. My mother, always the voice of reason, calmly replied "Yes, he came by last night to ask if you were ok". My Dad died 7 years ago! And that is a true story about my favorite ghost!

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: rabbitrunning
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 10:50 AM

This ghost story is one I tell each year to the kids who come to the library. It actually happened to my older sister, but I tell it in first person because that works a lot better.

The Lady of Realta

When I was a kid in Colorado, we used to go to summer camp, and one of the camps was a church camp, a place called Rainbow Trail, which is down in the southwest corner of the state. Just about a mile away from the camp was a lake called Rainbow Lake, and about a mile past that was a ghost town called Realta. Now a ghost town isn't a town full of ghosts, it's a town where all the people have gone and left. We used to go up to Realta on hikes and look for stuff like old spoons, or sun glass - which is glass that's been in the sun so long it's turned purple, or other stuff that people had left behind.

Now one rainy day, when we were stuck in the lodge and couldn't go out to play, one of the counselors, a guy named Bill, told us the story I'm about to tell you. Seems that back about a hundred years ago, Realta was a thriving community. An up and coming town. They had a silver mine, and a gold mine, and big timber mill. And in fact, the town fathers were talking about putting in street lamps, and they had sent to Marble and built a big fountain out of marble right smack dab in the middle of the main street. Seems like the town was luck was never going to change. But then one night, just at the turn of the century, something happened.

The stagecoach came up from Durango, and it got to town just before midnight, and a woman got off of it. She was a tall woman with long blonde hair, and she was wearing a pale pink dress. And as she was crossing the road, just as she was coming alongside the marble fountain, two drunken miners came out of one of the saloons. And one of them pulled out his gun. Nobody's sure now if he was just shooting to celebrate midnight, or if he was trying to shoot at his friend or what, but the bullet hit the lady, and she fell over the marble fountain and bled to death.

Well, of course the first thing they tried to do was find out who she was. But nobody in Realta knew her. And no one in Durango knew her. And no one in Silverton, up at the other end of the stage line, knew her either. So they buried her in an unmarked grave by the lake. Then they tried to get the bloodstains off the marble fountain. They tried lye soap, and boraxo, and scrubbed and scrubbed, but they couldn't get the bloodstains off the fountain, so they left them there.

Shortly after that, the town's luck went bad. There was a flood in the gold mine, and a fire in the silver mine, and then a big forest fire that burned a lot of the trees that the timber mill depended on. And with no place to work, people started to leave Realta. They left even faster than usual, because there were stories going around. Stories about a bad luck ghost - a tall woman with long blonde hair wearing a pale pink dress. The stories said that if you saw her, something bad would happen to you. Pretty soon, there was nobody left in Realta.

'Long about the nineteen twenties, a boy and his father were fishing at Rainbow lake. Now the father knew the stories, but the boy didn't. And one evening, the boy was down by the shore fishing, when he looked up and saw a woman standing at the edge of the water. A tall woman with long blond hair, wearing an old fashioned pink dress. But he was a friendly sort, so he called out, "Hello there. Would you like to have supper with us?" The woman turned and looked at him, and then vanished.

Now I've been to Rainbow Lake and I can tell you that there's nothing to hide behind if you're right next to the water. It's all just little rocks and mud. So the boy, he went to his father and told him what he'd seen, and the father wasn't sure to believe him or not. So they went ahead to make supper. But that night, while the boy was chopping wood for the fire, his ax slipped and he cut his foot just about half off.

'Long about twenty years after that, there was a trucker going up the Million Dollar Highway. Now the Million Dollar Highway is the road that runs from Durango to Silverton, and it's a real mountain road. The mountain comes down and then there's a little bitty ledge for the road and then the mountain goes on down again real steep, and the road full of curves and such. Now the trucker he picked up a hitchhiker. We know he did, because when he didn't show up in Silverton they went lookin' for him. They found the truck where it had come off the road, down at the bottom of the mountain, and the trucker he was dead. But the hitchhiker, he lived long enough to tell them that the reason the trucker went off the road was because there'd been a woman standing in the middle of it. A tall woman, he said, with long blond hair, wearing a long pink dress.

A few years after that there was a family of flatlanders used to come up. Tourists, you know, from Nebraska, and they would go hiking through Realta, and one time they took some pieces of marble from the old fountain as souvenirs. Now, one of the pieces of marble had a funny brown stain on it, and they tried to scrub it off with Ajax and steel wool. But it wouldn't come off, so they figured it was just part of the rock, and put it up on the mantelpiece with the rest of the rocks. But that New Year's eve, just at midnight, that funny brown stain started to glow a bright fresh blood red, and it stayed that way for the whole twelve strokes of midnight before it went back to being a funny brown stain.

Now Bill was telling that story, and we were all looking at him kind of big-eyed, but when he finished up we said, "Aw, there's no such thing as ghosts; you're just tryin' to scare us. It's working, but you're just tryin' to scare us." And then somebody noticed that it had stopped raining, so we all went out to play.

And that should've been the end of it. But that night Bill's cabin, which was all boys, kidnapped my cabin, which was all girls. Now they didn't really kidnap us. It was a kind of a game, and usually what you did was you all went down to the barn and jumped around in the hay and got hay in your pajamas and then everybody would go up to the lodge for hot chocolate and graham crackers. Just for fun, you know? But the boys told us to put on our coats and shoes and come along to go up to Realta and catch the ghost.

So we put our coats on over our pajamas and our sneakers on our bare feet and we all went trooping up the trail to go catch the ghost, all giggling and having fun.

But you know, even in the summertime, it gets cold in the mountains at night. Especially if all you've got on under your coat is your pajamas, and by the time we'd gone a while, we were getting chilly and cranky and saying "Aw, come on, there isn't any ghost. Let's go back and get our hot chocolate and graham crackers." And by the time we got up near the lake, we were just grumbling.

And then, all of a sudden, one of the girls, a girl named Robin, screamed as loud as she could. We all turned to see and grabbed for each other and shouted and looked and I can't tell you what anybody else saw for sure, but I thought I saw something tall and pale kinda flickering between the trees.

Well it took a little for us to calm down enough to tell each other what we'd seen, and some people, they hadn't seen nothing. Some people were like me, they thought they'd seen something, but they didn't know what it was. But Robin, the girl who screamed, she was sure. She'd seen a tall woman with long blonde hair wearing a pale pink dress, she said, and nothing we could say would shake her story.

Well, after that we all decided to go on back to camp. But it was a ways to walk, so on the way, we started to thinking. And some of us said, "Hey, wait a minute. The camp nurse is tall. She's got long blonde hair. She could've put on a pale pink dress and come out here to scare us to death." So when we got back to camp, most of us went on up to the lodge for hot chocolate and graham crackers, but some of us went to see if we could catch the camp nurse at her cabin. But when we got there we found out that she'd been up all night with a boy who had poison ivy, and he told us that she'd never left, so it couldn't have been her.

Well, somehow or other, we all got to sleep that night. But the next day Robin, the girl who screamed, she fell off her horse and the horse stepped on her foot and broke three bones.

And that really happened.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ebbie
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 01:25 PM

The first time I was in a local historic hotel and bar I had an unusual experience. I went in with an acquaintance who used to work there as a hotel maid. We sat at the bar drinking coffee and talking with the bartender. At a certain point I excused myself and went to the restroom. When I came back, I remarked to 'Suzy' that that was a remarkable painting. She said, Yes, sometimes the owner dressed the waitresses in red and black for that reason. Well, that didn't make sense to me but I let it pass.

Three weeks later I took another acquaintance into the bar with me and we sat at a table and had a glass of wine. When she excused herself to the restroom, I told her to take a look at the painting. When she came back she said there was no painting. I said, Well, there is but when I come back from the restroom I'll tell you where it is.

There was no painting- not even any room for it. And the entrance to the restroom was different. Earlier the restroom was at the end of a long wall- now there were two arches cut in the long wall. Earlier the painting had been opposite the wall on an easel or a low table.

To make a long story short, I checked with both the earlier acquaintance and with the bartender and they knew of no such painting.

In frustration I went home and with color pencils I sketched the picture and took it back to the earlier acquaintance. There, I said, This is what I saw.

I drew two women behind a square table that had a 'pot' of roses on it. The one woman had short, dark and precisely 'finger-waved' hair and she was dressed in a cloak or coat that had a standup scalloped neckline closed with a clasp. She had on a cocked dark hat with either a red feather or a red ribbon drooping over her face. Speaking of her face, she had a small scar in the corner of one lip.

The other woman was dressed for indoors and was wearing a yellow gown with lots of skin showing. She was bright blond, with her hair upswept and piled on her head. She had a long, rather dour face. The blonde woman was much taller than the dark one but the dark one was much cuter.

My acquaintance looked at my picture briefly then said uncomfortably, I think you should put it away now. I said, Why? She said, I can't tell you how often I have heard that blonde described.

On the third floor it has been repeatedly reported that a blonde woman appears down the hall and when she is followed she disappears into a wall or at least doesn't make the corner. When the viewer gets to the corner there is nothing to be seen.

There is a tale that accompanies this that may 'explain' this occurrence but that's another story, involving a bride left alone too long and a jealous husband.

Ebbie

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 01:28 PM

Good story,rabbit!

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Rich(bodhránai gan ciall)
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 03:24 PM

Nice stories thus far, let's see if we can keep them going till Halloween. I'll rack my brain and try to come up with more.
Rich

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ely
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 03:52 PM

A friend of mine worked one summer as a counselor at a boy scout camp in the southwest. I'm not sure exactly what the premise of the camp was, but I know they spent their time trying to live as 19th cenury miners. He doesn't exactly believe in ghosts, but he admitted that a lot of stuff happened that he could not explain.

He remembered hiking in the woods and hearing someone walking behind him, but finding no-one there. He said he thought it was his own footsteps echoing until he realized that the other footsteps were not uniformly out of synch with his (echoes would have lagged behind his, but these changed speed, stumbled when he did not, and did not stumble when he did). He also heard footsteps and voices when he was exploring the reconstruced mines, at times when he knew there was nobody else in the mine and when there was no possible source of echoes.

He also told of footsteps at night in the cabins, things moving mysteriously, and loud noises when nothing had been dropped or broken. I don't think anyone ever saw anything but he admitted that it really gave them the creeps for most of the summer

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ely
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 05:43 PM

By the way, good stuff, everybody. I've had to stop reading this thread after dark. I LOVE ghost stories but don't want any more of those weird dreams . . .

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 06:38 PM

rabbit! We used to tramp around in those mtns around Silverton, Durango and Ouray, as well as Marble. I have a 150lb piece of marble from the Marble River. That was a wonderful story! brought back a lot of memories. My mom and dad used to drive the Million Dollar Highway when it was a dirt road, in their circa 1930's Harley with a side car.

Ebbie, great one. I'd love to hear the rest of it about the bride.

these are wonderful!!

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ebbie
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 07:31 PM

The story goes, kat/laughing, that a newly-married man in pursuit of gold brought his gently-bred bride to Juneau and telling her he'd "be back in three weeks, sure" ensconsced her in this hotel and headed north to check out some diggin's.

Well, he didn't come back, her money ran out and she did a lot of crying, and avoiding hotel management. She became acquainted with a lady of the night who convinced her that there was a way for her to make a living.

Three months later, her husband finally came back. When he discovered what she had resorted to, he strangled her in their room on the third floor. End of story.

The interesting thing is that, as with so many other public buildings in Juneau, there was a lively bordello upstairs in this hotel. Perhaps he didn't know that?
br>Incidentally, in addition to the sighting of the blonde in the hall, the sound of sobbing frequently emanates from the vicinity of Room 321.

Ebbie

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: rabbitrunning
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 10:53 PM

I'm glad you liked it, LEJ and Kat. Of all the ghost stories I tell here in Boston, that's the one that I hear back about from high school kids that remember me telling it when they were younger.

I tell a lot of the classic ghost stories too. But since I learned most of my favorites out of Maria Leach's "The Thing at the Foot of the Bed" and then didn't see it for years after I started telling the stories, my versions tend to be a little different. In my "Golden Arm," for example, the person with the golden arm is an ex-swordfighter...

I love the ghost stories on this thread, though. I'm trying to figure out whether or not to ask people by PM if I can tell them or if just asking in the thread is enough.

[grin]

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Rich(bodhránai gan ciall)
Date: 01 Oct 00 - 11:10 PM

Rabbit, The "I've got your keys" story I posted is as far as I can tell, public domain. What's more, I'm sure that Alan, changed enough of it while working it up that his story is far enough from the original to be OK and I've worked it up enough over the years that my rendering of it is fairly my own. I would consider it fair game if you want. It's a bigger concern for you when taking material from other tellers in your own area, although if you work up your own spin on the story it's usually pretty much accepted. Personal and family stories are a little different. Some people might object to that.
br>Rich

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: JamesJim
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 12:39 AM

This one actually happened to me. I was about 5 or 6 years old and as any young boy would do, I often got into trouble for not minding my parents. My next door neighbor, James, was a year younger than I and his grandmother would often babysit him so his parents could go out. Because we were close in age (and probably because it kept James occupied), she would sometimes allow me to visit when she was there.

To keep us close, in one room, she made sure all the lights in the house were out, with the exception of one light in the one room we were in. When we'd get a little rowdy, she would knock on the side of her wooden rocking chair and say, "the BaldBellear will come and get both of you if you don't be good." Needless to say, although we had no idea what a "Baldbeller" was, we'd be frighten half to death. We'd quieten down and stay close to her the rest of the night.

I became very leery of visiting when she was there, because of the "BaldBeller." One night I became very brave and told her I didn't believe in such a thing. She said, "well you should! He is shaped like a big brown spoon and he gets very angry at bad kids. He screams at the top of his lungs and will take you away to a bad place." I thought to myself, "what harm can a big spoon do, anyway?" Nevertheless, I thought about what this thing might look like and when she threatened us with it, I would always quieten down.

I know young kids are impressionable, but what happened to me one day after I learned of the "Baldbeller" was more than unnerving. I remember distictly sitting in our living room on the couch. It was summer and the sun was shining brightly outside. My mother was in the kitchen washing dishes and I could see and hear her from the sofa. There was no one else in our small two bedroom house, because I had just walked through every room (you could walk in a circle, first in the living room, then left into the front bedroom, through the front bathroom door, then out the back bathroom door into the back bedroom, right into the kitchen, then back to the living room). I could see into our front bedroom from the sofa and had a clear view of the bathroom door right off that bedroom.

I don't recall exactly what Mom asked me to do, but I know I responded angerly and told her I wouldn't do it. She said that if I didn't, she'd "switch my little behind" and make me cut the switch. I remember that I was unimpressed and must have said some pretty bad things to her. Next thing I know, I am looking right at the "Baldbeller." He had slowly opened the bathroom door off the front bedroom and was looking straight at me with the most evil face I had ever seen. It was the most terrible experience I had ever had in my life and I quickly ran to my mother, screaming and crying. I told her what I had seen and she told me it was nonsense and Grandmother Pitts shouldn't have scared us kids that way. I would not calm down, so she slowly took me through the house to show me there was no one or no thing there. I told her how sorry I was to have backtalked her and from that day on, I minded when she told me to do something.

This seems trivial and silly today, but I still wonder about it. Has anyone else ever heard of the Baldbeller? I can't find one friend that was ever told of such a creature. Strangely enough, I have seen pictures of this thing --- it looks like pictures of aliens drawn by those who claim to have been abducted. A little chill just went up my spine as I sat here and recalled this story. Happy Halloween and don't let the Baldbeller get you!

Jim

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 12:50 AM

I think I got a little of that chill too,Jim.Whether there really is such a thing,or if your mind created it,I believe it was there.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ely
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 01:25 AM

This is NOT TRUE, but it's always been one of my favorites. Sorry it's so long. **********************************************************

Daisy and Robin lived with their mother and younger brother in a house by the woods. They often liked to go walking and looking for wildflowers when they had finished their chores. One day, they came upon a clearing where a wagon had parked. A girl about their age sat near the wagon, beating on a small drum.

Daisy and Robin approached her and listened for a little while. As they watched, a pair of tiny dolls came out of the drum and began to dance. They had never seen such a wonderful toy and begged the strange girl to give it to them.

The girl said they would have to do something to earn it. They said they would do anything for such a beautiful drum and dancing dolls. The girl thought a minute and said, "When you go home tonight, I want you to be bad. If you are bad enough, I will give you the drum."

Daisy and Robin ran home. That night they threw food, refused to wash the dishes, and would not go to bed when their mother told them. Finally, exasperated, she told them, "If you don't behave, I'm going to take your brother and leave, and find you a new mother with a long tail and eyes like a cat's."

Daisy and Robin didn't like the sound of that but they wouldn't have to misbehave again. But, when they told the strange girl what they had done, she shook her head, "No, you have to be worse than that. I can't give you the drum just for spilling your food."

So the two went home and drew on the walls with crayons. They spanked their little brother. They threw paint on the dog and tracked mud on the floor. Their mother began to yell, "I don't know what's come over you but if you don't behave, I swear I'll leave, and you'll have a new mother with a long tail and cat's eyes."

Daisy and Robin apologized. But when they told the girl of their crimes, she again refused, "You get one more chance."

Daisy and Robin were worried, because they didn't want their mother to leave, but it was only one more time. They let the pigs out and chased them away. They tore their clothes. They broke all the dishes. They dumped all the food in the pantry onto the kitchen floor.

When their mother saw it, she was furious. She screamed, she yelled, "Stop it! I can't stand it! I meant what I said!"

They promised they would never misbehave again. But when they went back to find the girl, the wagon was gone, and so were she and the wonderful drum. Sadly, and frightened, the two girls went home.

When they got there, the house was dark and there was no sign of their mother or brother. "They've gone to town," said Daisy, "Let's go for a walk, and they'll be home when we get back."

They walked for a long time in the woods, thinking about the terrible things they had done and the girl's betrayal and the loss of the wonderful drum. Finally, it began to get dark and the girls were cold and hungry. They started home.

When they got there, there was a light on in the kitchen, but when they looked in the window, it was not their mother. It was their new mother, her cat's eyes sparkling and her long tail thumping on the floor.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Metchosin
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 02:37 AM

My Grandfather told the following story one evening when I was small, as we were sitting in the warm glow of a fireplace after an evening of song and banjo playing.

He had been working on a road gang in the southern interior of British Columbia sometime in the early 1900's. At the week's end, the men in the camp received their pay and most decided to head to town for the night, to celebrate, spend some money and sleep in a clean bed. My Grandfather remained in camp.

He was sitting later in the evening by the fire, when he noticed one of his fellow workers, who had gone with the group to town, sitting across the fire from him, staring into the flames. My Grandfather, a bit surprised at his return, tried to strike up a conversationwith him, but his friend remained silent. Respecting his desire not to socialize and because it was getting late, my grandfather retired for the night.

The following morning word came from town that the local hotel had burned to the ground during the night, along with some of the workers from the camp who had decided to stay there, including my grandfather's silent friend.

It was the only tall tale he ever told and we were inclined to believe him.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: GUEST,Fibula Mattock
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 08:20 AM

Brrrrr, I'm getting shivers down my spine and it's lunchtime on a sunny day...blooming air conditioning in this place!

Now, I am a sceptic, a cynic, and atheist and generally pretty honest. But I can't explain this. When I moved into my first house (extremely crap rented accommodation in my first year at university. 1994 - oh-so-long-ago) I was moving in with 4 other girls and 2 fellas. It was a semi-detached house just off the Lisburn Road in Belfast. On the first day I went up with my mammy and daddy and wee sis (two years younger than me) to drop off my belongings. I went into the house for the first time, and heard someone walk across the bedroom upstairs. I called out thinking there was someone else there - my sister vouched that she heard it too - but no one replied. I checked all thye rooms but no one was home. I put it down to the people in the house next door being really, really loud.
I remarked on it later on when the others had moved in. One of the guys, Rory, gave me a funny look. Now he was a big, strong bloke and though quite fond of smoking dope and thus prone to being in a semi-stoned state every evening, a fairly credible guy. He said that the only person next door was an old woman whose carer/health visitor brought her downstairs every morning and then up again at night as she couldn't move about much on her own. Sure enough, we saw her later. It was later on I found out about the other weird things... In the fella's bedroom, Rory says he woke one night to have his arm being held firmly out, being pushed down. He says the room was pitch black (normally a streetlight gave it a bit of a glow). He thought it was his room mate mucking about, but he says that when it stopped after a bit, he turned on the light and the room was empty.
Strange arrangements of objects started appearing - a shoe with an apple and a coin balanced on top; jars set upside down balancing in the middle of the floor,etc. We would all be sitting in the living room some nights and we would hear all the dishes in the kitchen moving across the worktops. People heard footsteps. Rory swore that chairs were pushed up against doors when he tried to open them. One night, sitting with one of the girls and her boyfriend in her room beside the bathroom, they both looked at each other and he said "did you hear the toilet flush" (unusual in itself - you had to fill the cistern with a hose from the bath - bleeding student accommodation!). She was plae and said "yeah". I heard nothing. Then one of the fellas brought his wee 3-year-old brother over to the house one day. The child started talking to someone in the bathroom. We asked who he was talking to and he replied something along the lines of "Mr Kinsale. He lives here."
Strangely, I stayed in the house on my own some nights, and it wasn't too bad (but now I'm more of a coward). Only once did I wake up with fright. I'd been dreaming that someone was in my room. I was crawling to the end of the bed to get away from them. When I woke up, sure enough I was at the end of my bed, soaked in sweat, and I couldn't shake the feeling.
I've always wanteed to go back and ask the next occupants if they had any trouble (we moved into a much nicer house after a year). A few of us fell out and we don't keep in touch, but I met Rory a few years ago and jokingly asked him were they not all messing about, and was it just a big joke. He looked straight back at me and said "no, it happened".

As I said, I don't know what to think. I'm highly suss about things like that, but I do think that we don't know all there is to know about how the universe works, and we don't know all there is to know about how the human mind works, so if the strange things didn't happen by human hand, then I'm chalking it up to something that we can't yet explain. It was enough to convince me however that people are subject to these types of experiences, and whatever we attribute them to, many people will swear that they do actually happen.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: rabbitrunning
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 11:37 AM

Yah, Rich, that's sort of what I figured. I have heard versions of "The Keys" before (and told 'em) but I like what you've done with it.

Incidentally, anyone who wants to tell Lady of Realta is free to do so for all of me. After all, I snitched it from my sister and she doesn't mind.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Bert
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 12:10 PM

I told this one years ago, it's Not a ghost story but it's gory enough for halloween.

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Ebbie
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 12:46 PM

Reading Fibula M's account makes me visualize something. Scenario: You have recently died and either you don't know it or you are resisting the information and you don't want to leave life on earth. You try your best to tell people you are still here, you get in their faces and yell at them: I am here! Look at me! and they don't, they are totally oblivious of you.

Eventually you learn how to affect physical matter, feeling sure that people will notice inappropriate actions and events. You rattle doors, thump on floors, stack things in impossible manner... As people come running in response to each event, you station yourself in front of them and say, See? I'm here!

Time (?) goes on but nothing changes, in fact time has no meaning to you. You don't sleep or eat or need exercise. People in 'your' house come and go and no one responds to you. Until perhaps one day, someone comes to the house who knows you are there, they can feel your presence and maybe one day someone actually sees you...

Next time, folks, when a dog howls in the next room or there is a rap on the wall or you wake startled in the night, look carefully- there may be someone there.*BG*

Ebbie

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Áine
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 03:10 PM

Don't have a story to mind at the moment; but, I'd just like to thank Lonesome EJ for bringing this thread back from the grave, as it were (hahahaha). And thanks to all of you who've contributed these new great stories -- this place just continues to amaze me!

-- Áine

Subject: RE: BS: Favorite Ghost Stories
From: Rich(bodhránai gan ciall)
Date: 02 Oct 00 - 06:37 PM

I've been racking my brain, I figure I owe this thread at least one more, and I'm having a hard time thinking of another that translates well to the printed page. I'll get it though.

More to come.
Rich