Just when you've let down your guard, the
Another Truly Unique Ghostories
With a Whole New Batch of Chilling Ghost Tales Added Each Week
Week One . First Class R. M. S. Accomodations
Week Two. The Ghost Surfers
First Class R. M. S. Accomodations
by Ken S.
Hailing From: Bakersfield, California
Where it Happened: The R.M.S. Queen Mary (Long Beach, California)
Before I begin, you must know the total awe this ship inspires. The Queen Mary is over 1,010 feet in length, and stands over eleven stories tall. It is simply massive. (It used to be a passenger liner, and is now a floating hotel / tourist attraction). Now, onto my story. During the Christmas season of 1997, my father and I headed to the ship to attend a Titanic Historical Society convention (I am a member of this fine group) and since the convention spanned three days, we decided to stay on the ship's hotel. Our room was first Class Cabin M-103 (I think, it may have been 104 or 105), and after we got over the gigantic size of the room, we decided to get cleaned up after the 2-hour drive. This is where the weird stuff begins.
My dad was the first in the shower, and when he came out, he looked rather cheesed-off. He asked me why I kept coming in and flushing the toilet -- and then knocking on the shower door. At this I was confused because I had been sitting on my hotel bed watching Sienfeld on the TV. But, after I thought about it, I got kind of excited since I had read so many Ghost Stories about the Queen Mary.
I hoped that maybe this was my chance to see, hear, or at least feel the presence of a ghost (at the time I had wanted to be a Parapsychologist, but now I'm considering going into Kidnapping Investigation for the FBI).
I went into the bathroom, closed the shower door, and, well, washed. About two minutes into it, I began to get a creepy feeling, like someone was standing right behind me. I turned around abruptly, but with soap in my eye I could not see much. I thought I saw, however, a glimpse of a retreating shadow. As I turned around to wash the soap out of my eyes, I heard two sharp raps on the shower door. At this time I'm not sure which I was more, utterly excited about "my first supernatural experience," fascinated, or utterly terrified. I think it was a strange mix of all three.
Anyhoo, I washed quicker than usual and got out of that bathroom as fast as possible. The convention went without a hitch, (but as we entered into the grand ballroom for the big formal dinner, there was a small flood forming at the stairwell, due to a burst pipe. A Titanic enthusiast jokingly cried, "We're sinking!", but after we went to bed that's when it all started again.
I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but the event must have been after 2:00 a.m., since I had nearly died laughing at Saturday Night Live (those Roxbury Guys are hilarious!). Anyway, I woke up with a terrible case of seasickness. I felt as if I was going to throw up, and the feeling in my gut was worse than any "car sickness" I had ever felt. As I sat up in bed, I could feel the ship pitching and rolling, as if it were in the middle of a typhoon! For a brief moment, I wondered if I WAS in a Typhoon, because the ship is in an enclosed dock, and no waves from the outside can get into the dock. These thoughts were cut short, as I couldn't wait any longer to get to the toilet and grant freedom to my aching bowels. I leapt out of bed and suddenly, not slowly -- just completely ABRUPTLY, the rolling and pitching stopped, and so did the sea sickness.
It just stopped.
No lingering whatsoever. I'm not sure what went on there, but as I stood there, I got that creepy, "I'm being watched" feeling. Without hesitation, I jumped back into bed, hid my head under the covers and didn't resurface until daybreak.
I'm not sure about this theory, but I think I might have been somehow "transported" back in time to the ship when it was sailing in a storm? I've been there many times since, but nothing as "haunting" as that has happened to me.
Just a word of advice, though: Don't go down into the engine room alone. I went down there alone, and the "being watched" feeling was so bad I ran the whole way through. Watertight Door #13 is along that way, where a man was killed back in the 1960's. They say he haunts that area and can sometimes be seen, heard, and literally felt. I haven't seen, heard, or felt anything yet there, but I'll be sure to let you know as soon as I do!
I hope you enjoyed my little account. It makes a great conversation maker for me. =)
Fabulous story, Ken! Thank you very, very much for sending it in -- it makes a perfect opening addition to the new Storm Library!
I couldn't have asked for a better piece to start in 2012.
Any ship or sea going vessel offers up a strange and interesting combination of environments. First is the vastness of the sky and the sea surrounding everyone on board 360 round degrees during an excursion. The sky offers only a vista of what weather may or might not affect your comfort levels, changing by the minute depending on the whim of the clouds stirring high above. Sometimes in the dark of night you cannot even see your hand save for the lights on the ship. Then there is the sea, an endless and lonesome whirling landscape when there is no land in sight. It can be a great friend, bright blue; or a chilling gray, or blacker than a coal mine, calming or sinister, but ever so very silent. All of this affects moods, temperments, lost memories and even heartaches.
Aboard the ship there are no mountains to gaze at, no trees to admire, no hills, valleys or streams to paint pictures for us to identify our days, our existence. The ship itself is made out of metal and wood and filled with gas, electricity, whirring machinery, fire blasting furnaces and nasal thick oil; bustling with cargo and people and workers that have to look alive tramping about all decks at all hours, 24/7. It has a hospital, where people recoup or they die; and has its own finance system, business unit and accountants. It is life itself, its own universe in a constant state of flux, of movement, of change and history.
I once made an observation that, in some rooms, the walls themselves soak up the events that have happened from the day you arrive all the way back to the day the first passenger or patron set foot inside. They are like their own historians recording every emotion known to mankind. And, well, sometimes they speak out even at the most illogical moments. Those walls could or might have affected your very perceptions or anyone that was in your room prior to your arrival.
So, in this particular instance, why did the ghost or spirit choose the shower? Really? A shower? As if this was about something personal; like someone is upset you are in their shower? Or are they warning you about water? Or about being on time for the next event on the ship? Don't be late? I guess what I am trying to say is that when a spirit enters the realm of the living we have to stop and think, why are they there? What is the reason they are there. What might they be trying to tell us. Or, are they late and need a shower themselves, as if in an endless loop of getting ready for the next captain's dinner and show, possibly telling you to hurry up? (Shades of The Shining).
And then there is the tossing about which is all about water too. And irksome. And to have that feeling slam shut like that rap on the shower door is unnerving, to say the least. How do all these pieces of the puzzle fit together. To make sense?
Finally, I have been to parties on a ship and if you eat too much or drink too many, the ship is never on smooth enough water. I am not saying that has anything to do with all of this. It can just be us, or not us, or them. There was something there and It is ours to ponder. That's why we are here, and they are there. But I'll bet the knocking continues and you are not alone in your experience.
Do Ghosts exist? Let's find out. Together.
-- Your Captain for this particular wayward sea cruise, Keno
I'm hoping that after our next Ghostories Meet on the old sailing ship, the Star of India in San Diego Harbor (October 2012), that possibly we can someday schedule a Meet at the Queen Mary. The Queen Mary is, as you said, a great ship offering a perfect place to hunt ghosts and gather for some more ghostly adventures. Maybe we can plan this one in 2013. And, who knows, this is a special hull because something happened to the ship or to someone related to its ghostly voyaging past, just like the Mary. By the way, post on your Facebook page who the Queen Mary was named after, and what champagne was used to set her on sail. And, let us know.
Now, don't forget to put us on Facebook . . . and, hmmmm, now to think of it, where did I put those Dramamines!!!!!
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The Ghost Surfers
by Steve & Michelle
Where the Event Occurred: Beathany Beach, Delaware
This is the first ever encounter that would change my life forever, as well as bring me and my wife Michelle together.
It was November 20, 1991 and I had taken up surfing earlier that summer. I had met a guy named Karl who was the most inspirational person I had ever known, not to mention very good for an amateur surfer. Karl and I had just found a place in Beathany that was always empty except for a person who always had a video camera with a weird green lens during the day and a blue one at night. She was only 13 years old and was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her name was Michelle.
We must have both fallen in love at the same moment but neither one of us shared it with the other. Karl and I would surf there all hours of the day. We called it Ghost Break because the beach was like a ghost town. I had no clue how close to the truth it was . . .
One night Karl and I had surfed during an afternoon break and were taking a rest before deciding to leave. At this time the feelings Michelle and I had for one another were very clear. We had become inseparable, but for some reason every time we would make out she would point the camera in a general direction and keep it running. Just as Karl and I were about to leave their was a major siege of mega waves. Karl and I both jumped at this chance, but just as I was about to go in Michelle grabbed hold of my arm and said, "No! Don't go. I fear for your safety."
But Karl didn't care. He wanted to go, and so I figured he would be alright. He tore the surf up and we caught it all on video. It was as if Karl had a burst of never-ending energy. As it got dark there was nothing but the light of the full moon showing him the way. Michelle put the blue lens on and within five minutes we heard the howling of wind that sounded like a group of surfers running down the beach to the waves. I ignored it because it was just the wind (right Steve, just the wind).
Karl had just caught an awesome wave and was tearing it up. He started to descend down the lip when all of a sudden he was separated from his board -- right in what should have only been 3-4 feet of water. He fell just as if an extra two hundred pounds had been added to his weight. The speed and the fall directly into the crash-point of the wave should have killed him, but every trace of him disappeared that night as if he had fallen into a bottomless pit.
We never saw him again. I burst into tears at the loss of my friend. Michelle held me in her arms and told me her story about her brother. A story that was almost identical. We spent the week just filming the spot night after night. Finally she showed me all the videos she had made from the time of her brother's disappearance.
Her brother had been surfing the same monstrous break, but the only difference was there was an icy blue mist on the surface of the water that grew bigger and thicker as the night went on. It finally enclosed her brother Lance and he had simply disappeared. Not a wipe out, he just disappeared. She continued to film that week and then I saw in the video that the water on the third night went glassy and there was a blue-colored writing on the water that said, "Michelle don't worry. I am okay and still alive. Don't try looking for me, you won't be able to do it alone. Another will join me and his friend, who will become very close to you. He will be the chosen one. Then you may search for me."
When we compared that video to Karl's disappearance we discovered that Karl was pushed off of his board by some one who we did not see until we took a hard look at that video. Later in that video the blue writing did appear, and this time it said, "Surf the break." I did what it said, but I was fear stricken. Michelle cried the whole time and I surfed all night long until I became really tired. As I headed to the beach my fin grabbed onto something. I was scared to death -- it was Karl's board -- and engraved on it were the words, "Assatige Island."
We traveled to Assatige Island and walked the beach for three weeks until one night I happened to see a board floating on the water. I retrieved it and it was her brother's board, but there was nothing written so we just decided to travel. Ironically we traveled in the direction that the board was floating and every where we stopped we found a clue connecting Karl and my wife's brother Lance. We were recently led to Mexico and found a grave that had no body in it but a note that said "We miss you both."
Michelle and I were married in Mexico on the beach; what we saw that night we will never forget. We saw phantasmic images of Karl and Lance in the moonlight by the water. That night neither one of us cried again. To this day we are still searching . . .
I've combed a lot of beaches over all these years and have wondered when the first Surf Story would roll in -- and there you were. So BRAVO! And, thanks! Still, all in all, I had one yet burning question about this whole episode: Is it possible at all, being that there is so much talk about that 'Ol Triangle, could it be that these dudes were wearing Bermuda Shorts????? (yikes...groan.. Did I just say that, I hope not.!!)
Nothing in Nature has Passion like a Storm
Well, almost . . .
Cant wait for next week, can you?
O'Neill Ghostories ® 1996 - 2012
Ghastly West Coast Subliminal Earlobe Productions
Semi-Annual Ghostories Plantation Hayrides
Many Thanks to Mrs. Ray Dilldine for your divine inspiration
Afterlife Tours & Inverse Rodeo Entertainment
Underwater Blow Drying Competitions
Made to be read in a not so very well lit room. Tune in next week . . .