--==A Ghostories Library==--


1. Ghostories Introduction: The Other Side of Corona ... by Ken O'Neill
2. About Those Groves ... . . . by Robert Coody
3. Dark Jealousy, Cemetery Ouija & More . . . by J. Castillo
4. Formless Presence . . . by Matt Hunter
5. Mom Is Here To Stay . . . by Tessa L.
6. Look Mom, No Hands! . . . by N. Martin
Bonus Story! -- Stay Forever . . . by Evelyn Dorianne Parish


The Other Side of Corona
by Ken O'Neill -- Your WebMaster
Hailing From: Corona, California
Where the Event Occurred: In the City of Corona

It's deep in the middle of the night. The house is deadly quiet, all occupants are fast asleep. You've been in bed for a more than a few hours, fully engulfed in rapid eye movement dreams when the "distraction" begins. At first, it playfully beckons you out of your dreamstate by tugging on the covers at the foot of the bed, pulling you back toward semi-wakefulness. But, when it perceives you may be drifting back, it tugs again to elicit a more direct response, but gets none. Undaunted, it eerily walks across the bed like a black cat set loose by a witching-hour spell and this time the response is right.

You crash-land right out of your dream and shoot straight up in bed, fully aware that something in the room isn't right. All hairs on the back of your neck are standing up like steel spines and you catch yourself breathing in short, but very loud measured gasps -- struggling to keep your sounds to a minimum so you can better hear what is going on around you.

Ahhhh yes, that's better. Now "it," or should we say "they," have your full attention.

As the dark surroundings come into focus, your auditory senses begin to detect a faint rustling sound coming from the hallway. It sounds like something scurrying, and slowly as you listen, it seems to increase in echoing decibels. Sticking a foot out of the bed, you slowly force yourself erect and move around the corner towards the sound when they come into full view.

Just a short distance down the hallway are several small hooded figures scurrying about, half-visible, half-floating. They don't move toward you but they really don't move away from you which wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that while they are in sight, time stands still and so do you. You are frozen in place, unable to move a muscle, frozen in place until the scene finally dissipates.

Is this a Salem seance? The Winchester House? Room 1205 at the Coronado Hotel? Not a chance, this is right here in Corona -- maybe even a few houses down the street from where you live!

Real people experience real "apparitions" right here in the city that R. B. and the boys built. Some of the homes are old, some are new. Some are located at the fringes near the Cleveland National Forest and some are on main drags that most of us pass daily.

What do you do when something of the supernatural happens to you? Well, of all the options, some have chosen to pay a visit by walking the winding stairwell at the back of the Corona Library to the room with the artifacts, the room with the "old" files, The Heritage Room.

Sound odd? Not really. After all, they do have a large collection of facts regarding old homes in the city. And, if something happened at any time in Corona's history, you're likely to find some remnant of it there.

The Librarian tells us, "I always know when someone comes in with a ghost experience. They kind of beat around the bush at first, like they are a little embarrassed, and then I say, "Is this a ghost story?" to which they say (with great relief), "How did you know?"

"They come to the Heritage Room looking for clues. After the ice is broken and they find out I am approachable and won't think they are crazy, we can provide them with historical records about their house, neighborhood and can even provide cemetery and death records. They can find out a lot of things here about what might have happened in the past, and I find myself coming to believe more and more in ghosts after I hear their stories and see how shaken they are. And, most are very clear, intelligent people -- so they are very believable. In some cases, I have contacted paranormal institutions to see if anything can be done to rid these apparitions from their homes and have gotten some very good advice."

There is no ghost story like the one that happens in your own hometown. The Librarian recounts several that include a family working in their garage and then finding out that the door to the house is locked and the sounds of breaking glass, voices and music coming from inside. Or, the renter who continually experiences "cold spots" and sees the previous owners black dog and master sitting in an easy chair in the corner of the room. (Even visitors remark at what a pretty black dog she has only to come back into the room to find that it isn't there!)

So the next time you awaken for no reason in the middle of the night, bear in mind, it's probably not that piece of cake you ate (like in Scrooge) or that last glass of milk -- quite possibly you are experiencing a haunting.

(This article was published in the magazine, Spotlight On Corona, page 30, October 1996.)


About Those Groves . . .
by Robert Coody
Hailing From: Flagstaff, Arizona


As a kid, being brought up in Corona during the 1960s, we always had haunting tales of ghosts encountered in the orchards or being seen around the old mansions. One was of a skeleton of a grove worker that would come out at night, whistling as he clacked along. Another dealt with the ghost of pilots who had crashed in the hills above Corona, seeking a way home through the groves.

My most memorable story though is one that I experienced while riding my bicycle out too late near the groves. It was getting darker and I knew I had to be home for dinner soon, and so I decided to take a shortcut along a dirt road that would be a more direct route for my home on Hacienda Drive, as I was racing along this route I began to notice a rustling sound in the trees to my left, and as I approached a tall ancient oak tree the whole tree began to move as if caught by the wind. At this point a lonely wail started up, high in the branches. At this point I pedaled as fast as I could, I could swear that something was behind me every step of the way home. I never did go back to that spot, and I wonder if it is still there, that old tree up near the McMasters home.

Robert Coody grew up in Corona and currently lives in Flagstaff, Arizona. This is his first of two submittals to O'Neill's Ghostories.

Dark Jealousy, Cemetery Ouija & More
by Joseph C. Castillo

I have a couple of stories to tell you. A couple have to do with my mother's experiences with the supernatural and I have one of my own to tell you. My mother is an immigrant woman from the Philippines. She is a very intelligent woman. She had lived most of her young life in poverty. She struggled to survive, and to make it into the US with almost nothing given to her. That was why I had always wondered why she was afraid of the dark.

I could not believe that someone as intelligent as her, someone who struggled in hardship, could be afraid of the dark. So one day I asked her, why are you afraid of the sounds of the house settling and of all of the dark parts of the house, and this is what she told me....

"When I was a little girl, my mother's best friend had dying, stricken with cancer. My mother had promised her, before she died that she would take care of her little girl, she was two years younger than I was. Well the time finally came when her friend passed away and the child came into her custody. As any child I became jealous of the attention my mother was giving this child. I would bully her around and threaten her when my mother wasn't around. This went on for about two weeks when it all came to an end. I went to take my after lunch daily nap, and not fifteen minutes had passed when I was awaken by a cold breeze, that chilled me to the bone. It was intensely cold, kind of like a mid-winter blizzard wind, the kind you feel on the loneliest of nights. Since I was living in the tropics, it shocked me wide awake, and hovering two feet off of the ground stood my mother's best friend, at the foot of my bed. Her clothes were mere tattered rags and her nails were long and gnarled. Her skin was a pale white and her arms were long and reaching out, almost as if trying to embrace me, but there was no love in her face. There was only a look of intense hatred and madness. Her eyes, red and burning. I laid there not able to move for ten minutes, my eyes locked and forced to gaze upon her, barely breathing and not able to scream. I thought that I was going to die. After those ten minutes she turned away from me and went through the wall in my room to the outside. I cried for days and never again have I ever wronged another person after that experience."

There was also another incident that also scared the living daylights out of her. This one also took place in the Philippines. I heard this one when I mentioned to her about my experience with a Ouija board. I was about thirteen at the time. She looked at me and told me that if I was valued my soul that I should not use such tools of evil. This is what she said...

"In the Philippines, there is a game we used to play as children, I was twelve the last time I did this. It involved using a Ouija Board in the middle of a graveyard. Kids would make the Ouija in class to use after school using notebook paper and an object tied to a string. The object, usually an object of crystal-like quality, would swing towards the appropriate letter when used. We would do this with friends to prove that we were not scared of anything including demons and ghosts. Well one time we were in the middle of the graveyard calling a spirit when the pendulum started swinging real fast. The string stretched out tight and it felt like someone was pulling on it. It would not swing at all unless a question was asked of it. This had never happened to us before. Scared out of our minds, we asked it who it was. The focus spelled out 'come to me come to me'. We asked it again who it was and again it spelled out 'come to me come to me'. Finally we demanded to know who it was and it spelled out 'satan'. All of us were frightened beyond all belief, someone amazingly had the nerves to ask 'Where are you?'. It replied swinging so fast that was almost too fast to read. 'RIGHT NEXT TO YOU ALL'. At the last letter 'L' we all felt bony freezing hands caressing our faces in almost a mocking way. We all ran out of there screaming. Leaving the tools of that evil art behind us..."

I guess you could say that I had always been a skeptic. I never believed in any of that stuff, even with my personal experience with the Ouija Board (Nothing like my mother's experience had ever happened to me). Well at least until one day a couple of years ago...

I was sitting in my Junior Year English Class in Williston, Northampton, a boarding school. The class was talking about ghostly experiences. Only one person in that class had a "real" story to tell. This Korean friend of mine told us a story about a laughing ghost that would sit on the chests of young asian males, suffocating them if they couldn't struggle enough to push the demon off. Evidently, this ghost only has it for young males with any asian blood in them. He looked at me and asked with all seriousness "Hasn't it ever happened to you?". I laughed about it and asked him if I was in danger because of my Filipino blood. He looked at me with fear and said "It happened to me a couple of nights ago and I bet he's still around, watch out." Never had I gotten such a good laugh!

Well a couple of months after that class, I was in bed sleeping soundly, when out of the blue I couldn't breath. Whipping my eyes open, I struggled to get up. I COULD NOT get up. I heard this crazy laughing and in the dark I saw these happy opaque eyes staring at me. I could smell the stench of really bad body odor and feel a cold breath blowing to the tempo of the laugh. Almost totally suffocated I reached up for top of my head board and literally tore a couple of muscles in my arm trying to get up. Never again will I doubt the possibilities of the supernatural.

Here's one last one for the road...

In my senior year in boarding school, I had this friend who lived in this dorm room where 3 years prior to his living there, a guy hung himself in the closet. It was a pretty normal living though, nothing weird at all or so it seemed. It was almost the end of the year, when a teacher came into his room to check for any damages to the room, you know, so that if the student broke or vandalized something, they would have to pay for it in order to graduate. Well the teacher looked at the wall next to my friends bed and noticed a drawing of a guy with long hair on the wall. The teacher asked my friend who that was and my friend said "That's the rock star that I dream about every night". The teacher looked at him with almost a look of intense fear and said "That's no rock star, that's P.G. Lee!" P.G. Lee was the boy who committed suicide in his closet three years before my friend had even been enrolled in that school. You know the funny part? He still got charged money for the drawing that he drew on that wall.

Thanks for the stories, Joesph! They are great! Not only are they excellent, but it is clear you spent some time composing them and for that I extend to you my deepest appreciation. Thanks very much for taking the time and being a part of O'Neill's Ghostories (formerly known as Corona Online Ghost Tales). Without you, this page wouldn't be here! So, consider it your page. Bravo!! ---Ken

Formless Presence
by Matt Hunter

I can't really say what I saw but I know it was enough to make me sleep with the light on and with the pillows, covers and my cat over my head.

It was a late Friday night about 12 a.m. I was walking through the house with the lights off. As I came around the corner of the hall there was this black thing standing there. I could tell it was about my height or taller. It didn't have a face but some how I new it was looking at me. I stood there for about 20 seconds and then I closed my eyes. When I opened them it was gone. I ran to my room and put everything I could find around me just incase I had to fight it. I don't know what I thought I was going to do. It was so scary!! I couldn't see through it but I definitely could see it. I didn't have limbs or anything. I get chills even now when I think about it. The room I, we, were in was all white and there was nothing that could make the shadow look like that. It was about a foot away from me and I was chilled from my head to my feet right down to the bone. I have never been so scared in my life!! I can tell you this, I am not a skeptic anymore!!

Anyone who has ever encountered a "presence" can tell you, they'll never walk down a dark hallway the same way again! Thanks for the story! Oh, and I have to say it -- that intro line to your story was a "one in a million!" A "cat" over your head?!! baahahahhahhhahahhaha

Mom Is Here To Stay
by Tessa L.

I actually feel a bit scared to even relate this incident. This happened to my family and involved my late mother. But since my passion for the supernatural is such, I'm here to share my story.

About 3 years back when I was still a 10 year old girl, my mother passed away from cancer. About a week after her burial, my servant girl started to feel a chilling presence at night. She said that one night at around 3 a.m, a voice [my mother's] called out to her and told her to open the refrigerator, and someone even turned on the kitchen lights! My maid went to check it out after a few minutes, and really found the lights left on and some of the stuff out of place.

My father also had his own encounter. He said that one night when he returned late from work in the hospital, he went straight to the bathroom to get changed into his pajamas. He didn't exactly close the door tightly and could see the cupboard from the mirror in the bathroom. I was at that time sharing the king-sized bed with my dad, and was fast asleep when this happened. Dad said that he saw the cupboard door open and his favorite pair of pants drop down to the bottom of the cupboard. He could even smell the pungent smell of the ointment my mother used when she was sick.

Dad didn't wake me up, because we were all in a state of grief, and he didn't want to scare me. The next morning at the breakfast table, my grandma whispered to me that my Ma was back. One night when my dad was watching tv downstairs, I opened the windows of my bedroom upstairs. As I opened the windows, a cold and cruel breeze seemed to caress me in the face. And not far away, I heard a dog howl to the night.

This incident happened in a town in Malaysia. Although this occurred not in America, I hope that you all can place it on the site.

Thanx -a-lot.

Hey, absolutely no problem! Thanks for the story. But, I was wondering, have you since had encounters with your Mom in other locations? Or was it just at your Dad's home? Either way, gives me the shivers! Take care and stay in touch! :)

Look Mom, No Hands!
by N. Martin

Bare with me, please. These memories are a bit hazy. I can remember being aware of otherworldly presence since I could barely reach the dining table. Although my, how would you call it, senses have been dulled and weakened with age, I have chosen to believe that they haven't quite yet disappeared.

My first recollection of such an awareness came when I was living in my mother's home in Colorado Springs. I believe the house was built sometime between the Korean War and Viet Nam. Needless to say it wasn't ancient. My very large family (four boys, three girls: all with big egos) moved in this house circa 1977. I was four years old then. Throughout my life there I was exposed to an abundance of unexplainable events. Some of which occurred in the presence of myself and others. Others were more discriminating. I swear on my mother's good name that everything I'm about to write is true.

At the time of this first occurrence, my bedroom was upstairs to the right of what we dubbed the "Front Room". The "Front Room" was a large living area with horridly green carpet and gold wallpaper. It was positioned directly in front of the kitchen; separated by a wall, and two rooms-length away from the family room we called the "Red Rug Room". From the doorway in the Front Room (which led to the kitchen) the Red Rug Room was clearly visible. My first experience occurred from this point of view.

It was early in the morning (I would say one or two), and about a year into our residency. I was five years old. Even with the amount of people living in the house I was lucky enough to have my own bedroom upstairs. My mother was in the room next to me while my brothers and sisters all slept downstairs in shared bedrooms. Resentful of this arrangement, many of my siblings would occasionally sleep on the couch upstairs in the Front Room to gain some sense of freedom.

On this morning, it was my oldest sister Linda who occupied the couch (which leaned against the wall between the kitchen and the Front Room). Linda was the oldest sibling living in the house, and also one of the most talented. On a piano we kept in the Red Rug Room, she would compose various songs. One, a fast-tempo, jazz song, she played frequently. I suppose she played it so frequently that whatever or whoever was in that house with us took a liking to it and memorized it.

I remember waking up suddenly and sitting directly up in bed. I can remember having the strongest urge to get up and walk into the Red Rug Room. My sister had left the light on in the Front Room, so I felt a little more at ease getting up. As soon as my feet hit the floor, I heard her song playing. It wasn't loud, but it was as though my head was hearing the song more than my ears. I hope that makes sense. It is a very difficult perception to convey. I could hear all the chord changes and notes being played exactly, but the playing itself did not have the familiarity with the song like that of its composer. It almost sounded like a very good rendition of her song.

My first thought was to warn her to stop. My mother was very strict and the punishment for playing the piano at two in the morning was likely to be a severe one. This thought was soon replaced with one of intense fear when, upon walking into the Front Room, I saw my sister fast asleep on the couch.

Still unable to accept an irrational reason, I suspected that another sibling was playing a practical joke. I approached the couch and shook my sister. Now I have often read that sometimes during poltergeist activity, the "presence" will put some members of a household into a deep trans-like state, while leaving others to "witness" the occurrence. I have conceded that this was the reason behind the fact that my sister did not wake up after repeated "kiddie-punches" to her shoulder.

I peeked around the corner to see if another sibling was the culprit. Not only was the room empty; the lights were off in both the kitchen and the Red Rug Room! And most eerie of all: the music stopped playing at the exact moment I peeked around the corner. I turned to my sister and shook her again with as much force as a five-year-old can muster. She didn't even wince.

By now the music was enveloping my head. I looked around the corner once more. This time the music continued. As I peered through the darkness with the aid of the light from the Front Room, I could see the keys on the piano gently moving, as if someone or something were pretending to play without making any noise.

Perhaps the one thing I have the hardest time remembering is how quickly I was back in my bed. I heard the music playing until I fell asleep. And to this day, I have the feeling that something followed me back to my room.......

That day, when I was alone with my sister, I questioned her about it without mentioning what I saw. She indicated that she had the deepest sleep ever... and dreamed she was playing her song on the piano.

This was the first experience I remember from my mother's house. I will submit more later.

Great story! Now that I've heard it, I'll pay more attention each night to remember to put the lid over the piano keys -- just in case!



And now, before we move into the
next Ghostories Library, we have a
Bonus Story!


Stay Forever!
by Evelyn Dorianne Parish
none given
Hailing From:

Where it Happened:

I know I have a really dorky name, but my mother wanted to give me a 'mysterious' name - she was interested in supernatural junk. I, however, have always played the role of the practical, unbelieving skeptic. But that changed one cool summer evening of '96 .

My pals and I were 15. I had three of my friends over at my house, and a brother a year older than us - he was the main reason my friends had come over. But that summer evening we were all bored to death. Even my charming brother could not provide us with entertainment. There was absolutely nothing to do. My father offered to tell us a story of his childhood. Everybody politely refused. Then my mother floated in wearing - now this is really embarrassing - a long, flowing skirt with sun and moon prints boldly printed on it, and a black V neck blouse. I could have died.

I nearly choked on the chunk of gum I was chewing. On one hand she balanced a tray of five glasses of lemonade (she use to be a waitress), and in the other hand she gripped a board. We accepted the lemonades, but after my friends had finished theirs, they planned on leaving. I couldn't let them do that - it's better to be bored with others than be bored all by yourself (or with an annoying brother). Then my mother revealed the other thing she had been holding - a Ouija board. My friends oohed and ahead and squealed - I remained unfazed.

My friends wanted to try it out. My brother suggested going to a nearby cemetery. And so we did. The cemetery was beautiful, with bright green carpets of grass, numerous bouquets of flowers, and angelic stone statues. It was hardly the place to frighten yourself. The sun was still out, slowly sinking behind a cluster of willow trees. My brother picked out the grave of a fifteen-year-old girl named Poppy to sit near. He placed the board on the ground, and my friends and I sat in a semicircle around it.

My friends elected my brother as the 'inquirer' - I didn't get to have a say in it. After numerous questions, it was clear that there was nobody answering - except my brother, who kept moving the plachette. Just as we were about to leave, our fingers still on the planchette, it moved!

"STAY," it spelled out.

We all gasped. Then laughed, figuring someone within the group must have done it. By now the sky was dark blue, lavender, pink, and orange - the colors of a sunset, though we could not see the sun at all.

"EVELYN," spelled the planchette.

"I think it wants you to ask the questions," my brother said to me. Still somewhat skeptical, I agreed, vowing to myself that I would make sure this wasn't one of my friends playing a trick. "Is there a spirit present?" I asked.


I took a deep breath. "What is your name?"


"How did you die?"


I shivered, but tried to pass it off as laughter. "Prove you are here," I demanded.

Suddenly, for a moment, we were all shaking. There had been an aftershock. "That proves it!" yelled my brother gleefully.

I scowled at him. "It's a coincidence," I said.

"NO," said the board.

I believed it. My friends began to get scared, but they wanted more answers. They shot questions at me to ask like arrows at a target. "Why are you still on earth?" I asked.


One of my friends nearly fainted. "Who's the murdurer?" demanded my brother.

"Who is the murdurer?" I repeated.


"Can we help you?"




My friends and my brother jerked their hands away from the Ouija board -- but I didn't.

"We can't stay," I answered.

"STAY," it repeated. "FOREVER!"

I jerked my hands away. We left, leaving the Ouija board at the cemetery. I don't know what happened to it. I didn't tell my mom what happened, but she could read on my face that something happened. She didn't ask what happened, though. She didn't ask where the board was. She didn't ask any questions at all, and frankly, I'm glad.

Now I'm eighteen. I am no longer a skeptic, but I am not fully a believer yet. I never touched another Ouija board. I stayed away from everything scary. Except this website - my mother found it.

And, we're glad she did! Thanks so much for the story, Evelyn. I enjoyed it and I think everyone else did too! And, what's more, I don't particularly think you have a dorky name -- it is rather mysterious! One thing is for sure, you have a mom with very good taste! I was thinking though ( a dangerous pastime for me) that our ghost "Poppy" ended up planting a seed that grew into a ghostory . . . well, if you believe in Karma and all that . . .


Haven't had enough?!
Well then, follow us as we vanish
into the next Ghostly Library, Tormented
You'll be sure to catch a chill!!!

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