[FrontPage Image Map Component]

Catacombs Ghostories Library Corridors Ghostories Library Casements Ghostories Library

Click Here to Cross Over to Our Member Ghost Writers Libraries

If "it's" still out there, you're ok
But if it isn't, it came in through one of your old and weathered

--==Ghostories Visitor Library==--

--== Midi Music "Seasouls" sent in by Ghostories Member Kenneth L. Shank ==--
--== Kingsport, Tennessee 1998 ==--
* * Best Heard in Real Player * *


Flight of Thunder
by Lawrence E. Seward
Hailing From: Bremerton, Wahington
Where it Happened:
Toronto, Canada

This really freaked me out and I'm still I'm a bit shaken from what happened.

I went up to my sisters house after work last week, I was really tired and just wanted to sit back and relax. As I was driving up the long twisted stretch of road to her home she came driving down the road. She stopped and told me she had to go, and to just go inside her house. Well, I got to her house and sat down. It was around ten thirty when I had arrived. I waited for her but she never came back that night, so I decided to fall asleep on her couch.

I began to drift off, when I looked outside and it began to down pour. I saw lightning off in the distance (I watched the weather report before I went to work and there was no talk of lightning in the newscast).

I began to drift of again when I heard a thundering boom and a bright flash outside the window. I shrugged it off. But a few minutes afterward everything went silent, a dead eerie silence. The silence was so unnerving it felt like something was stabbing my ear drums -- it was really unnerving.

The silence was broken with another crash of thunder and then there was a loud wailing. The wailing pierced every pore of my body and shattered the silence like a mirror smashed into just so many pieces. I could hear that it was off in the distance, but with every crash of thunder it was clear it was approaching closer and closer in my direction.

After awhile the thunder stopped, and all was quiet once again, so I began to dose off. My eyelids had just started drop when I heard the last violent crash of the thunder, and this time the crash was so enormous it shook the house. Accompany the thunder was the bright light. I know it was not the flash of lightning because the light would just have flashed and disappeared, but this light just stayed there, lingering just outside the window. I figured it was a light that was turned on from a neighboring house, but I was wrong.

A moment later, I heard the wail and the light flew in front of me, up and over my head and then it disappeared. The entire time I heard the blood-drenched wailing.

It was about this time I decided to leave this house. I stepped outside and the house was enshrouded with nothing but pea soup fog -- really thick fog.

I got into my car and began to tear down the driveway. I saw the light again but it had more form then it did before. This time it appeared to be a lady with a long flowing robe. She was positioned in the middle of the road and I couldn't stop the car in time -- and I plowed right through her. Not over her, not around her, but THROUGH her.

I heard a voice in the back of my head. It said and I quote, "It's time Lawrence, it's time."

Then as I was barreling down the long twisted road scared like a toad on lily pad during a lightning storm, I heard the voice again.

"And you are already on borrowed time, " it said.

As soon as I turned off the hill and onto the main road, the eerieness went away and I felt the comforting feelings of safety after that.

That same night when my sister returned home, she had a dream. This may or may not have anything to do with what I just said, but it might, so I'm going to add her dream to this story.

In her dream she saw a flash of light so she got up and went to the living room, and she saw me sitting on the couch. She said to me, and I quote again, "Larry, it looked like you were transparent on the couch, as if you were a ghost or something." Then she asked me what time it was and in the dream I told her it as 3:45. Then she woke up. When she told me about her dream I did not tell her about the ghost I had seen just hours earlier -- so she had no way of knowing about a flash of light and about what had happened.

This is really weird. I hope it was a ghost I saw and not a banshee. If it was a banshee, you all just read the witnessing of my death -- damn (excuse my profanity) --this has me really scared because if you ask me what I think, I'd say it was a banshee.

Quite possibly, Larry. Very possible indeed, but unlikely. Banshee's rarely miss their mark, and if you ask me, I think your sister was the one who made a narrow escape by being called away that night.

I'd take it as a warning, though, not just to her but to you as well. Take inventory over your life and see if any changes should be made -- just in case there is something that can be corrected so as not to give this little she-demon another excuse to come a-calling.

I'd be more than curious to know where you sister went that night, and if either of you are involved in work or hobbies that have some aspect of danger. If you are, take heed.

Now, you know, you must go back there and spend the night again -- very soon too. This time make sure both you and your sister are in the house and that no one is called away for any reason. Spend some time talking about your lives and things that might have some impending doom written on them -- for either one of you. (For some strange reason I hear the song, "Stand By Me" playing in my head as I write this response. Does that mean anything to you?)

Moreover, try to relax. Banshees, if they are real as my ancestors always said they were (and who's to say, I always thought the angels had the corner on this particular stretch of territory) always warn you about the impending death of another family member of whom the coach and four will be making the journey to, and not usually your own demise. It is quite possible your visit had more to do with someone in your family who you know is dying or has some sort of destructive behavior. All in all, spend a little time with sis and sort out what you know from what you fears tell you might be so -- that always helps. Listening to your fears is what I call the "fools gold" of most encounters. You have to place them in proper perspective in order to read the signals properly without taint of color.

All the best, and thank you very much for sending in your encounter. I do believe that this one qualifies as a real chiller -- so much so I dare say that Tiffany Lucas might even like this one. Let us know what happens.



Friends in High Places
by Dwain Collins
Hailing From: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Where it Happened:

I was only a little boy, no more than five-years old. I was living with my mother (of course), and my three brothers. We were living in an apartment. It was eight o'clock that day, and I remember coming out of the bath when I felt strange about something. While my mother was in her room getting ready for work, and my brothers still sleeping, I could feel the presence of another being, or half-being among us.

As I sauntered out into the living room, who did I see sitting down starring at me? Now at first I was shocked, I couldn't believe my eyes. Then it got up, the ghost. It headed toward the kitchen, and I followed behind. It vanished miraculously, I couldn't believe it.

The reason why I knew it was a ghost because how can a human being vanish from the tenth floor.

Thanks for the story, Dwain. Definitely tells us all that there is no altitude limit for the dearly departed!



Cuttin' a Rug
by Tammy
Hailing From: Michigan
Where it Happened:
Farmington, Michigan

I have a few stories to tell, some my father told me, one is my own true account, but this one was told to me by my fiancee and it kept me up for a long time that night after I heard this.

He said that when he was about eight or nine years old, his family moved into a two story home that was maybe 20 years old at the time. His parents slept downstairs, and he and his four sisters had bedrooms upstairs. None of the kids wanted to sleep up there because they had nightmares every night about a "skeleton woman in a black robe coming out of the closet."

This closet was located in the girls bedroom, but he had the same dreams.He said one night the girls woke up screaming about the thing in the closet, and their mother raced up the stairs with a broom, beating something in the closet (she says she doesn't remember doing it, even though all the kids watched her do it).

One night not long after, Charles awoke from a deep sleep,because he knew something was in the room with him. He tried to yell for his mom and dad, but he couldn't make a sound. He had his knees up to his chin with the covers pulled up around him trying not to breathe. Then something pulled his toe, and then bit it. The covers were shuffling like someone was trying to get in bed with him. He screamed and bolted from the bed, he ran downstairs and spent the rest of the night in his parents bedroom. Even though his toe hurt for days, there was no bite mark or redness at all.

The girls were also having a hard time staying in their rooms, they were so frightened that they spent the whole summer at their grandmothers house. Charles refused to stay one more night in his room, so he started sleeping on the couch. The couch was located off to the side of the staircase. He thought he would be safer if he was downstairs until one night. He was about ready to doze off when he heard something chewing the carpet on the stairs. Then the chewing speeded up so fast that he could feel the vibration from the staircase. Once again, he was too scared to utter a sound, so he lay there, heart pounding, hoping his parents could hear it. They did and called up to him, "Charles, what are you doing out there?" his mom called out. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. "Mom, hurry, something's eating the carpet!!!!." His mother and dad got up and when they turned on the light, they could see where something had ripped up the threads on the carpet. Each step was almost bare, and the ripped up carpet was no where to be found. His dad searched the whole house looking for an animal that may have gotten into the house, but there was no way an animal could have done that in that short time, and at that speed.

They made Charles go back to sleep on the couch. He didn't want to, but finally after some time, he was getting sleepy. Almost asleep, he suddenly was wide awake. A cold, dead line went down his back. Even though he couldn't see it, he knew it was the skeleton woman running her bony finger all the way down his spine. He thought that he was going to die. He said he wanted to die, because he wouldn't be afraid anymore. He made it through that night, and ended up going to his grandma's house too.

His parents said they were going to try sleeping upstairs, but it didn't last long. After about 3 months, they moved away. His mom and dad do not like to talk about the house. The only thing they will say is they always had a bad feeling when they were in the house. His sisters also confirm his stories, and swear something was in that closet, and if they would have stayed there any longer it would have gotten them all. The house remained empty for about 3 years before it was sold. I would love to do research on this house, and find out what happened -- and I wonder if the next tenant had a problem.

Great story Tammy! Thanks :-)

This is a prime candidate for research, for sure! You should check out the local papers and the heritage room at your local library. Talking to old timers is good too. If you don't live in Farmington any longer, you can always find out the Library's e-mail address and start that way. I'm sure you will find something really interesting!

Now, what do you suppose is with this carpeting fetish she had? Was she just upset that her old floor coverings had been replaced by yours? (remember what the new family did in Beetlejuice?!) Or is she trying to tell folks that there is something hidden under the floorboards, under the stairs? Maybe there is something written under there? Maybe there is blood under there? Maybe someone fell down there? I would be really curious indeed!

Let us know if you ever decide to go ghost hunting, ok? I know it will be interesting!


Hey Ho! I love theatre stories and one is coming right up -- thanks to Kathy from good old Fort Worth, Texas!



Dead Men Do Wear Plaid
A Theatre Ghost Story by Kathy
Hailing From: Ft. Worth, Texas
Where it Happened:
College Theatre

Okay, here's a theatre story for you. Many theatres have ghosts. There are so many ghosts that most actors don't even bother to ask if another actor's theatre has a ghost -- but, rather, who is their ghost and how did they get it.

My college has the ghost of a former student who used to spend a great deal of time in the theatre, even sleeping in the green room from time to time. One day this student, Bill, died in an accident -- but he returned to the theatre.

He's a very nice ghost who will only show up when a show is going well and the cast gets along. One day, when the stage was completely clear of a set, I was on stage with two of my friends -- one was singing a song from the Brady Bunch when suddenly a nail, one that that was in perfect shape and had never been hammered, fell from above us and landed right next to her foot.

It has alway been common around the theatre to have Bill's name always up on the call board with his peg in the in spot. One day a new member erased his name. My friend and I noticed it when we came in the next day, so we rewrote it and moved the peg back in before proceeding to the dressing rooms. We were the only people there that day. We commented on some makeup we had forgotten to buy as we settled in to our usual spaces in the dressing room and checked to make sure the drawers were empty and clean (which they were). The next day when we came in my friend was going to put a box with her jewelry in her drawer and noticed a plain brown bag in it. When we opened the bag there was the makeup we said we forgot to buy. We inquired as to who it belonged to but no one said they bought it.

During the run of that show, there was a long period of time where I had to stand with my back leaning on the railing of a staircase. Even though every member was out on stage in front of me there were two or three nights when I would feel the staircase shake as is someone where running up and down it behind me -- and one night while this was happening the sounds of someone walking on it were heard by several of the cast members (but none of the audience members).

The green room is often freezing, but has warmed up whenever someone asks Bill if he would mind leaving us alone so we could catch a nap before our next show or class. Many people, and myself included, have been warm one minute and then suddenly freezing cold while the person next to them remains warm. When this happens you can walk around as much as you want and you will still be freezing. A few times people who have been standing next to each other have both been freezing on only half their bodies.

Bill has also been seen several times by different people -- the director (who was his teacher when Bill was a student) has seen him several times as well as an ex-technical director and several students. One time when the T. D. and a student were working late on a set, a man in a plaid shirt and overalls appered in the room even though all the outside doors where locked at the time. They called out to him, but he didn't turn around so they walked over to him -- and he vanished before they could get to him.

During one of the rehearsals for a play another friend and I were sitting in an aisle and talking when a movement in the light booth caught my attention. Since no one was supposed to be up there, I glanced up at the booth and saw a man in a plaid shirt leaning over the ledge of the open window watching the rehearsal. I motioned to my friend who also saw the man, when we looked back again, the booth was vacant and the window closed. Thinking the door was unlocked and maybe someone had gotten up in there, we told one of the boy's (well actually men, they're in their 20's) to check to see, but they returned a short time later because the door to the booth was locked and the T. D. had gone home long ago -- and the T. D. was the only person other than the director running rehearsal who had a key.

Another time, during an outside show, the boy running lights from the light booth in the theatre heard a sound level with the booth (several feet above the floor of the theatre) and when he opened the window to the theatre he saw a flashing light in the air and no one in the building.

There are many many more stories ranging from objects being hidden and reappearing to the lights going out during performances for unknown reasons.

Now, there it is! Someone knows I love theatre (or is it "theater?") stories! Well, ok, I also love any stories that involve apparitions and afterlife personalities, but hey, theatre ones seem to have that special chill!

Thanks very much for sending it in, Kathy! We'll be at MGM on Monday next and I'll be sure to keep an eye out -- and not to ask, "Do you have a ghost?" -- but, "Who is your Ghost!"

All the Best!

Oh, and by the way, I know that we were pushin' GhosTees really hard in the past few months and I hope that everyone who bought one enjoys them. We still have them available (we wear them on sets whenever the opportunity arises) -- but we don't want anyone to feel as if we expect people to purchase one. The thing is, if it feels good, wear it, I guess. Other than that, they are here anytime anyone wants one -- and other than that, the most important part of Ghostories are the encounters sent in by the best *alive* people in the whole wide world -- YOU! *=[:-)



by Tina Preston
Hailing From: Dayton, Ohio
Where it Happened:
Miamisburg, Ohio
Favorite Author: Stephen King

Hi! My name is Tina. The story that I am about to tell happened about nine years ago. I was newly separated from my husband. My children, Valerie and Kyle, and I had just moved into this old two-story house that was built back in the 1800's. We had been living there for about two to three weeks when the first event happened.

It was a sunny, warm afternoon and I was home by myself while my children were visiting with their dad. I was in my daughters bedroom (upstairs) cleaning and picking up clothes off of her floor. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was not alone in this room.

Let me say that I have never been one to feel uncomfortable or paranoid about being alone -- and have never had a worry that I was being watched! I have never in my life had this type of feeling before.

I stood there frozen in my stance and I felt the sensation of cold air blowing on my neck at a very close range! I actually felt my hair moving from it -- and I know that all of the windows were closed in her bedroom.

I thought, "Oh my God . . . someone is in my house!"

I was scared to death. I started counting silently to three to gain the courage to turn around and face my intruder -- but when I did turn around, I saw nothing -- there was no one there. I thought, "Okay Tina, you're losing your mind!"

I went back to cleaning and nothing else happened during that day. However, about two to three days later, my kids and I were standing in my bedroom (which is also also upstairs) early in the morning preparing to get ready for school and work. While we were in a middle of a discussion, my sweeper suddenly turned on by itself in my daughter's bedroom. We all looked at each other in surprise and wondered how that could of happened. To be safe, I told my kids to go down stairs and head for the front door while I investigate her bedroom.

I entered her room and I looked at the sweeper which was still running. The light on the sweeper was glowing in the dark and it gave me a really creepy feeling. I turned on the light. The sweeper was located in front of a very large walk-in closet. My thoughts were that someone was hiding in the closet and was just waiting for me to approach the sweeper so they could jump out at me. After all, that sweeper never ever in the past has come on by itself! It had a very large push button located at the base of it and you had to punch it hard to turn it on.

I approached the closet after I turned off the sweeper, and once again, I saw nothing.

The next event happened a few nights later. We had all just gone to bed and it was late at night. I was lying there in my bed when out of the silence of the night was a very loud crash that sounded like something very heavy had been dropped. I even heard the wall vibrate.

I jumped out of bed and went to investigate but once again. I found nothing. (For some reason my kids didn't hear this and I don't know how they could of missed it because the noise was very loud.)

The next thing that happened was the thing that scared me the most. This event happened weeks later. I was on the phone with my sister. While we were talking, I heard the very distinct sound of the phone extension being lifted up and the sound quality on the phone became where I couldn't hear her talking very well. I was home alone at the time.

Even though I had two other phones upstairs, I presumed that someone at my sisters house had gotten on the phone. I mention to her that someone was on her phone line with us, but she said, "No, I am here alone and besides, I can see my extra phone from where I am sitting. It must be on your line, not mine."

I thought about it for a minute and told her that I was going to hang up and call her back. After doing so I immediately called her back. I wanted to see if I would have any trouble on the phone again. I really didn't think much about this at that moment. But after about two minutes into our conversation, I once again heard the noise of the handset from another phone being lifted -- and this time too I heard the handset bang against something (possibly the base of the phone).

My sister screamed and said, "Tina!!! Get out of there! Someone is in your house!"

I took her advice and ran to my next door neighbor's house as fast as I could. I called the police and while we were on the phone we were able to watch both exits of my house (the way that my neighbor's house was situated you had a birds-eye view of both doors).

I half expected to see someone try to leave but I never saw anyone. When the police arrived, they searched the entire house and found nothing. They tried to say that I probably just heard the operator cutting in on the line instead, but I can tell the difference and so can my sister. We both agreed that "someone" definitely picked up my other phone extension.

We had other bizarre happenings too but I won't go into them Since this is getting too long of a story. I will last mention that months later, all events just seemed to stop on their own -- and whatever was there before, seemed to have of left on it's own -- and, for that, I was thankful!

Thanks for your story, Tina, and a big welcome to Ghostories! There is nothing worse than being alone and having the feeling that someone might be in your home. And, since I've made this observation before in other comments, I'll do it again here: One thing about ghost stories is, if they are about ghosts, then we most likely are OK and there is nothing to fear but fear itself. However, IF that wasn't a ghost and for talk sake it was a real live being of this world who was picking up the phone, you would do well to invest in a low-cost home alarm system. I am actually shocked that the police didn't advise you of that sort of precaution, among others. (One of the greatest things about alarms is that you can turn them on while you are home alone, and if anyone tried to intrude, it would signal you that someone was trying to break in and even call the police for you).

I can think of several reasons why newly alone moms could be watched or, even worse, stalked by people who none of us could ever fathom what must be going on in their heads -- but there are people like that and my advice is don't wait for it to happen again -- just in case it isn't a ghost.

Now that I've probably scared you, let me also say I don't mean to. My advice is always to err on the side of caution -- and my intentions are to keep you around for a long time to wear your new Ghostories Sweat Shirt and send in more stories.

I did have one last, and very off-the-wall thought: You did say you were "separated" and if you divorce wasn't completely final, could there be a chance, even a slight one, that your phone was being tapped by a private investigator? Is that at all possible? (Only one theory, but who knows?)

A big hug, a big welcome -- and an open invitation to send in more stories any ol' time! :-)


Something in Common
A Theatre Ghost Story by Tony Dow
Hailing From: Surrey, England
Where it Happened:
Mitcham, Surrey, England

Working for a distribution company in Surrey, England, I used to work nights, finishing about two or three o'clock in the morning. There were two routes I could take to walk home - the quickest of which is across Mitcham Common -- which I elected to take on this particular occasion. I had never feared walking across the Common and was a skeptic when it came to believing in ghosts and such like, however I will never forget my experience.

As I had just past the Seven Islands (a group of large ponds on the Common with surprisingly enough . . . seven islands), I heard a sound coming towards me which resembled wheels traveling across the grass. I was right -- it was just a cyclist.

What concerned me was that he was riding his bicycle at this time in the morning, particularly since this boy was only about seven or eight years of age. This in itself did not frighten me as such, until I noticed him with a fixed gaze on me. Even as the bike had gone past me, I turned around and noticed that he was still staring at me, now looking over his shoulder as he continued to cycle forwards. How could he control the bicycle like this?

As my mind asked more and more questions, what followed really scared the life out of me. The boy on the bicycle (still staring at me over his shoulder) continued to carry on cycling, but across the water. The bike was on the surface of the water and there was now no sound of the chain or the wheels turning. Just silence, and the boy (wearing all white) continuing across the ponds and into the distance.

I ran home and could not stop thinking about this incident for weeks. My mind started working overtime. Had a young boy drowned here? Perhaps after cycling on ice which had broken? I never did research this for fear of what I might discover.

Thanks Tony! Sorry, but this submittal got really lost in a batch until I added two new computers and started going through older files . . . then low and behold, up this one popped! (Hey, I never once said I was anything near perfect!). But I am really glad to have your story and thank you for sending it in.

Now I can only wonder, what would possess a ghost to come back and reveal himself as a cyclist who can not just walk, but ride, on water!

And why I keep thinking about The Beaver?


Did Someone Say, "Presence?"
A Haunted House Ghost Story by Caradain Summerstorm
Hailing From: Norwalk, California
Where it Happened:
House in Tustin

Okay, this story happened about a year ago at a time when I was taking voice lessons from a teacher in the city of Tustin -- and in this particular area of Tustin, known as "Old Town," where there were a lot of very beautiful and very old homes -- and it just happened that the one across the street from where I took lessons was having an open house. On the particular day in question, my mother and I happened to be a little early for my lesson. So, with nothing better to do, we decided to walk over and take a look around that house.

I still remember when I stepped foot in the front yard -- I had the passing thought of "I wonder if there's anything haunting this place?" -- but I passed it off and told myself I was being ridiculous.

We went into the house and walked into the first room which was very pretty, but when we went into the next room I had one of the strangest experiences of my life. I was standing in the center of the room and my mother was in the upper right corner when all of a sudden I felt a presence next to me, and it felt as though someone had laid their hand on my chest (in a friendly fashion) and I heard a voice say, "I'm here, don't be afraid, I just wanted to let you know I'm here."

Shortly after that I heard my mother chuckle quietly and saw her shaking her head. We continued to walk through the house and when we went upstairs, and no one was around, I turned to my mother (who is rather adept at sensing spirits) and asked her, "Is there something in this house?" She told me, "Yes, there is, but it's very friendly and I would be able to live with it if I had to." When I told her of what I "sensed" she confirmed, "Yes, the same thing happened to me. That's why I laughed. I just told it not to mess with me because I already knew it was here and it didn't catch me off guard."

After that I went to my lesson. I have to say that was a very interesting situation, but not at all scary. Well that's my story, what did you think?

I've been to the area you talk about a few times in my life and I can vouch for the staggering beauty of the old Victorian-style homes. I even have a long-past "old ghost" of an old romance that took place in Tustin, but alas, it has been years since I have thought of that (a toast to "Vivian" and Debbie Jelly, wherever you are)! It does seems such a shame that this wonderful old style of craftsmanship and architecture has been set-aside for stucco and squared-off eaves er, I mean about the homes!

Regarding your experience -- there is really no one who can better understand it than you and your mom. That is what makes these stories so subtle and chilling, they are such personal experiences. But then again, there's me, and I have the habit of wondering about these things -- and I do wonder about the ghost's placement of her/his hands on you. I wonder if it just might have been related to your voice lessons?

Do you think the ghost was trying to tell you something? Or even better, did you notice any marked improvement or strength in your vocal projection after that happened? Maybe even a marked improvement in your vocal conciousness? You know many a vocal coach has placed their hands in a similar fashion so that the pupil can become aware of their breathing and projection power which eminates from the solar plexus. Could it be, do you think, that possibly the real coach in your recent training resided across the street from your "live" coach?

I think it is entirely possible that there was a message delivered to you that day -- and wouldn't that be an interesting twist to an otherwise uneventful afternoon?


Elm and Third
A Haunted Mansion Ghost Story by Kimberly Elizebetta
Hailing From: South Pittsburg, Tennessee
Where it Happened:
My house, a two story Victorian mansion

When I was just seven years old we moved into the house on the corner of Elm and Third Street. It was a rather large Victorian home, built in the 1830's by the first undertaker in the town, and it was also the second oldest building in town. From the outside, it seemed kind of small, but once you were inside there was an endless possibility of rooms to explore both upstairs and down.

Across the street was the oldest graveyard in town, and the oldest church, the stately Primitive Baptist Church, built in the 1850's.

The second we stepped inside our new home, bags in hand and marveling at the beautiful rooms, I began to notice a really strange feeling. Everywhere we went it was as if someone was behind me, curiously inspecting their weird new guests. It didn't seem unfriendly, so I tried to let it pass -- but the presence got stronger and stronger as we mounted the steps to the second floor.

I noticed an odd presence the most in the master bedroom, the room that had once housed a large pool table, and a little girl's bedroom. Most of the old furnishings were still in the house, so her room still had many dolls, and an old iron bed complete with mattresses!

The presence was especially strong when we went up and down the many steps in the house -- it was as if the 'spirit,' or whatever it was, was following us up the steps very, very closely.

It was odd. It was like I was the only one that could feel it as my mother and sister continued to jabber aimlessly, and drag me in and out of every room they happened upon.

When we came back the second day, it was just me and my mother, and I begged to be able to stay downstairs so I wouldn't have to encounter the strange thing upstairs. She agreed, but thought I was making this whole thing up, since I was so little.

I stayed downstairs in the living room, which seemed all right. However, when I sat in the large picture window that overlooked the garden, I began to feel "it" again. This time it was stronger than before. It was like something or someone was standing outside in the garden, looking in at me. It was so strong that I jumped up and started crying and screaming for my mother -- and she quickly came downstairs. I persuaded her to take me back to the apartment, that I wasn't feeling well, and we did.

The first night that we slept in the house was a week later. The old owners had come by and given us the key, and joked awhile about us buying the house.My mom could not understand why they thought it was so funny that we would actually want to live there.

That night, I was awakened by the sound of footsteps coming up the steps next to my room. I jumped out of bed. Since my mom worked all night, I thought it might be her coming home from work, so I ran out onto the landing to give her a surprise hug.

The footsteps continued closer and closer, but no one was there!

I turned on the light to get a better look and still, no one!

I screamed and ran into my sister's room, which just happened to be the master bedroom where I had felt some very strong presences in the first day we visited the house. She was sitting up in bed shivering, and I said, "Did you hear that?"

She replied, "Yes, yes! Yes!"

She told me, that before the footsteps had started, she had been awakened by the sound of something or someone going through her algebra homework and throwing her books to the floor. Each time she had gotten up and turned on the light, it had stopped, and when she turned off the light and tried to go to sleep, it had started again.

We huddled together the rest of the night, and didn't say anything to mom in the morning. The next week or so my sister got a job and I was alone in the house almost all day. I was in her room, taking a nap, and all I had to cover up with was some old sweaters and clothes she had carelessly left on her bed -- since we had not unpacked all of our things. I pulled all of the clothes over me and was getting very comfortable when an hour or so later I was awakened by a strange presence. I didn't open my eyes immediately, since I was very frightened, and this time it was stronger than ever!

When I did have the guts to open my eyes, there she was!

There was a woman dressed all in white, and it looked like a night gown from the 1800's.

She was leaning very very close to me, right over me and she was smiling. I was staring transfixed and paralyzed with fear. It was clear that she meant no harm, but I was scared stiff. I closed my eyes and silently tried to will her away, and prayed to every god that I could think of, hoping that it would work. When I opened my eyes, she was gone . . .

. . . but I could still feel her in the room.

Even to this day, we still get visits from this woman. We went to the cemetery next door, and found the graves of the original owners, and found out that her name is Viola Baumgartner.

We can hear voices in the house sometimes, and we can not understand what they are saying. We think this is because the people who built the house were German. While remodeling, we found empty beer bottles in the walls, and a pair of suspenders. They were very old and rotten. We took them to my step dad, who had lived in Germany for a few years, and he said that they indeed looked German in origin.

There's more than one ghost in the house. There are two male spirits. One is an old man in a gray shirt, and the other is a young man with black hair and a black beard. They are very active and visible. They often follow me around the house, down the steps, and into the kitchen. At night they slam doors, and walk up and down the steps. The are not malevolent, or mean in any way. They seem genuinely curious about us, and show no signs of trying to hurt anyone. We have no problems with them. After all this is THEIR house, they built it, so why not let them stay!

This is all true, mind you, and still happens to this day.

Kimberly, thank you for the story. I would truly love to see your home someday. This is a tale that I am sure most of our readers would have to pause for a moment, and consider. It is one that might separate the nonbelievers from the believers. This is an account where the wonders of real hauntings come straight to the surface and leave an impression on the mist that hovers above.

Please stay in touch and let me know what happens next . . . I will post it immediately and hope that someday you decide to purchase a GhosTee or Ghostories Sweatshirt -- after all, they do glow in the dark, and with "presenses" around, they could come in mighty handy!


Actually, come to think of it, I am having an awesome black silky racing-style jacket made with O'Neill's Ghostories emblem on it -- I could make them for any of our readers, customized with your name or "Ghostories" embroidered on the front lapel -- but of course they would be on the expensive side (well, I guess it depends what you call expensive) . . . so you could say they are mainly for "officionados" . . . . . and like the Tees, they also glow in the dark and have a very rich, luxurious look and feel. E-mail me if you are interested in procuring one -- each jacket would be made on a "custom" individual order basis.


Hey all, we are still looking for midi musician contributors! If you are interested in featuring your midi in one of our libraries, e-mail me and let me know, ok? (That's how Kenneth Shank did it, and you can hear his midi "Seasouls" on this page!) My mailbox is on the Ghostories front page.
--- Keno


Missing Pieces
by Dee
Hailing From: Germany at the moment
Where it Happened:
Bronx, NY

When my parents moved to the apartment my mother still lives in today, I noticed that it had some quirks. You see, the apartment has a few mischievous occupants I call "gremlins" -- they tend to take items for a while and then relocate them later on. I will explain . . . .

One day, my Mom left $20 in the front pocket of her jeans. She realized sometime later that she needed to run to the store, so she went back to her room to get the money. After a few minutes she called out to me, saying that she needed help. She couldn't find the money, so she asked me to look in the pocket. I didn't find it either. I searched quite a few times before I turned to her and asked if she was mistaken. Had she taken the money out before? Was she wearing a different pair of jeans? Was she sure she placed the money in her jeans and not in a jacket? And she replied, "No" to each question.

"Alright, Mom. You know how this house is. We'll wait for about 20 minutes and look again."

Mom did as I suggested, opting to read a book in the kitchen for a while. After about half an hour, she went back to check. Where was the money? Where did she find it? In the same pocket I had checked at least six times thirty minutes before.

She is not the only "victim" to these little practical jokers. One night, my best friends, Coraly, Mia, and Ralph came over to chitchat. Sometime later, I felt the need to smoke a cigarette (Newports at the time). Unfortunately, being a college student, neatness was not my forte. My coffee table was cluttered with everything from magazines to jewelry. So, knowing I put my pack on this mountain of stuff, I continued to talk while I searched. Frustrated after a few moments, I pleaded with my friends to help me take EVERYTHING off of the table so I could find the Newports. We shook out magazines, cleared off the table, even threw out some stuff, but the pack just simply was not there. The closest thing that matched the coloring of the pack was an empty Noxema carton. Oh well, I figured Id just grab a cigarette from my Mom. So, we straightened up the table and continued to talk. After some time, while puffing and chitchatting away, I managed to look at the table (which, of course, was right in front of me) and saw my pack of cigarettes, nestled between the pages of a magazine. I said Oh, guys! You are never going to believe this! -- and I picked up the pack. The look of shock on each of their faces was undeniable.

Now before this episode, I had spoken to them about the goings on in my house, but each time I received a polite, Sure, whatever you say, coupled with an, I dont believe you eye-roll.

To this day, my friends are believers -- and Im positive that these little guys are not the only ones sharing living space with my Mom. One night, Coraly was over for dinner. Doing our usual thing, we sat in my living room talking of nothing and everything. Suddenly, it hit me -- I smelled fried fish! Dont you smell it too? I asked. Of course she didnt, until a few minutes later, when the smell left me. Back and forth, for over an hour, the smell drifted between us, changing once in a while to the scent of fresh flowers. After a while, it faded until we could no longer smell it. I dont know who it was or what it was trying to say, but it certainly was an interesting experience.

Dee, good to hear from you again! Thanks for the new story. Hope all is well in Germany and not too, too cold there.

Now about those flowers. Hmmmm . . . there was an old sailor's joke about that kind of thing but I think with the holiday season upon us, we'll leave that one for another time!

All the best to you and your's this season!

Let's see, where is that light switch that was on the wall?!



Lean On Me
by Maryann Rodgers
Hailing From: Spring Hill, Florida
Where it Happened:
Porterville, California

My story took place in my hometown, in 1970. My father died in March of that year, and I divorced in April. This made me a new single parent of three small children. The situation left both my mother, and myself devastated. It was a short time after, that I moved my family into Mom's mobile home and we became companions, leaning on each other for the strength we needed so desperately. Our healing came slowly, but it was comforting to have each other so close. Summer in that small country town was just as hot as you can imagine, and one night in July, I had the most terrorizing experience of my life.

animated trailer It began as a normal warm evening. My Mom and I decided to sit out on the patio, as we had most every evening. We love to watch the kids play, settling little arguments that arose over the most trival thngs. Only kids can argue over a bug!

About 8:30 we elected to go inside. The mosquitos were always in rare form on summer nights. We watched television and ate popcorn for the rest of the evening. At 10:00 the kid's were falling asleep, one by one, so we called it a night and prepared for bed.

My sons, ages six and nine at the time, shared the spare bedroom. While my daughter shared the hide-a-bed sofa with me. I listened to their prayers, and gave hugs and kisses to my sons while they asked questions about everything that would keep them from "lights out." Finally, after settling them down, I retired to the living room to find my daughter fast asleep.

The sidewalk lights lit the room with a soft glow, and the slidding glass doors allowed enough light to see the wall clock perfectly that was hanging across the room from us. The time was10:40 p.m. I cuddled my four year old daughter, kissed her gently and closed my eyes. I drifted off into memories of happier times, and as usual, the urge, that dreaded bathroom urge, came. I thought to myself, maybe if I just ignore it, it will go away.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked at the clock. It was12:15. I closed them again, but no help, it was still there, that urge! Oh well, I thought may as well give up and go.

I opened my eyes again and looked into the face of . . . IT!!!

"What the hell?" was my first thought -- and then realization set in. This "thing" was not suppose to be here -- I thought no one, or nothing should be here.

"It" was a dark figure, and looked to be male. I couldn't see that it was male, I just knew. I remember that it had ears, no hair, no eyes, and where the eyes should have been was void -- the word "holes" really doesn't fit the description -- they were just dark spaces.

It was leaning over me, just slightly, as if to see me. It was very close,maybe 12 to 15 inches from my face -- and I wanted to scream, to yell for Mom, but nothing would come out. The sound was frozen in my throat.

I slid over toward the middle of the bed toward my sleeping daughter and I made a gasping sound. My eyes were wide open and for the first time in my life I felt real terror. Then, it slowly straightened upright, moved backward, and in a soft, fluid motion, it and faded --not quickly, it was much like slow-motion.

I never blinked my eyes, they seemed to be locked on it.

I lay for what seemed like an an eternity -- frozen and unable to move. My mind was reeling and I thought, "WHAT WAS THAT? AM I GOING CRAZY? AM I ALREADY INSANE?" And then I thought, "No, it really had been there. It was just as real as real could be. Right there beside me" -- and the urge came back (that awful bathroom urge). I thought, "Good, at least I didn't do it on myself, and I wondered why not. The wall clock read 12:45 when I aroused my daughter to go with me to the bathroom. There was no way I was going to leave her in that room by herself.

The next morning I told Mom of my intruder. To my surprise, she believed me, and all she said was, "Honey, it wasn't your Dad. It wouldn't have scared you if it had've been"

No it wasn't my Dad -- that I was sure of -- and it wasn't anyone who loved me. It was purely evil -- and I can still feel the evil of it, after 28 years.

My Mom didn't keep that mobile home long after. Even though it was new, she sold it for a song. We went on to better times and made alot of beautiful memories. She's with Dad now, and that makes me smile.


In His Rocker
by Mary Louise Wilson
Hailing From: Robinson, PA
Where it Happened:
Conemaugh, PA

I was 13 when my grandfather died at the age of 92. As long as I could remember, he had lived with one of my aunts for half the year and my other aunt for the other half. Our house was too crowded for him, but I remember him visiting for several weeks every so often before I started kindergarten.

My grandfather was a proper old gent. No matter the temperature, he wore one of his numerous 3 piece suits, complete with suspenders. The chain of his silver pocket watch was ever draped to one of his belt loops, and he never was without his gray fedora when outside, even on the hottest days. As he grew older, his white dress shirt was replaced by a red or a blue flannel shirt.

I remember being fascinated by him when he stayed with us. As youngsters often do, I pestered him to read to me, to tell me stories, and to draw pictures. He'd entertain me by reciting poems, and my favorite, making up his own stories using the characters in my "Golden Books," and changing his voice for each one.

As I got older and his mind grew dimmer, we had less to talk about, but I always enjoyed visiting him at whichever aunts' he was staying with. Then when I was 13, he died. My mother and my aunts divided his belongings. One of the items we received was his recliner/rocker, which made a HORRIBLE creaking noise when occupied.

About a year and a half later, I was staying up watching "Johnny Carson" while my parents went to bed. I had always had a keen interest in the supernatural, except late at night when I was alone.

The "other side" was the farthest thing from my mind when I heard the chair creaking its heart out behind me.

I'll never forget thinking, I'm not hearing this.

After telling myself that several more times to no avail, I slowly turned, fully expecting to see an empty chair. To my surprise, there sat my grandfather. I could see the blue upholstery of the chair through him, but I also could plainly see his red flannel shirt, gray 3 piece suit, suspenders, and silver watch chain. And typical of my grandfather, he wore his gray fedora for the journey. We sat and looked at each other, and as I stared, he gradually disappeared.

What I did next sounds incredibly stupid, even to me, but I calmly finished watching "Johnny Carson." The full impact of what happened didn't hit me until I had turned off the TV, the lights, and was on my way upstairs to bed. Then I ran up the steps and literally jumped into bed, pulling the covers to my chin, afraid to move. That was my first experience with the supernatural, and it was the last time I saw my grandfather.

I have had more experiences I will share later. By the way, love this site!

Possibly when he was in his rocker, you thought you were off yours! And I wonder if Jay Leno ever got (orwill get) an audience like this! (You know, I knew people who -- I think -- would actually come back from beyond to see Johnny Carson -- he had quite a following!)

Ahem. Ok . . . now let's see, what do we have here . . .

Unlike many others who hear about an encounter, and then talk about what it might have been about, I have a completely different philosophy that sometimes gets me into trouble . . . but that never stopped me before, so here goes.

I believe that the line between ghosts and angels is even more blurred than most of us can imagine -- and that this blurry line even extends into the greater makeup of religion and the universe. The way I see it, is it isn't all that impossible to believe in God and angels on the one hand, and spirits and ghosts on the other. Now I'm still not sure what my local preacher might say about this viewpoint, but to me they are all part and parcel of this grander journey we are all on -- and to believe in only black and white concepts seems pointless when we are really "the children of the universe" and have so much more to discover.

Now that I've let that cat out of the bag, let me suggest that I think you have an angel on your hands. Someone to look over you and be there for you. (Although he picked a funny moment! Do you remember what the Carson show was about at the moment you saw him? Maybe something about the show, or the theme of the show, was the reason he was there.)

I would imagine that there must be some talk to the ghosts and angels when they are "up there" (kind of like the talk that Clarence got in "It's a Wonderful Life") -- probably something that goes something like this: "the first time they see you, you'll stun them, shock them, and send them running under their covers!" And that's right on the money, isn't it?! But now that it happened, so to speak, maybe next time you'll be able to experience the moment, share the moment, and not run from it -- after all, he doesn't mean you any harm -- and it would be wonderful to know why he has appeared to you. Something may be about to happen, or will happen, and you should stick around to find out what it is.

Let us know how it goes, and I am glad you like the site. It is a labor of love and has allowed many people to come together and share a lot of experiences. I'm just kind of surprised, I guess, that even with some hints along the way, I've only received ghost stories and not one single angel story (which is absolutely great, don't get me wrong, I love ghost stories, true ones that is). Ahhhh, who knows, though, maybe someday! . . . *=[ :-)

Until next time, thanks again -- and welcome! I'm glad you're here.



Grandmom's Guest
by Jim Glasscock
Hailing From: Gulfport, MS
Where it Happened:
My Great-Grandmothers

This is a story my mother passed on to me of her adventure when she was a young girl in Michigan. Mom said she was watching her grandmother who was ill, when she heard two sets of shoes walking up the front steps and across the front porch.

Now, there were no front steps or porch, they had been removed over a year before and were never replaced -- and then there was a knock on the front door.

"You'll have to go around to the side door", Mother said, "this door is blocked."

Then, she heard the footsteps turn away from the front door, walk across the "porch" and down the "stairs." Then, there was a knock on the side door. She went to open it and a strong gust of wind pushed her aside. She became frightened and then ran in to check on her grandmother.

Her grandmother was sitting up with a soft smile on her face and said, "Don't worry child, it's just your grandfather and my brother coming to take me home."

An hour later, she passed away.

When they come for you in the final hour, it really doesn't matter which door they enter through -- they just do. The most important thing is what you leave behind -- and this story is a wonderful treasure to remember her by. We thank you for it.



Sing To Me
by Lisa Kent
Hailing From: Hebron, Nebraska
Where it Happened:
It Started in November

We bought our house in March of 1998. We lived in an apartment while we started remodeling (as in completely gutting the house and starting from scratch). Finally, in August, we moved in even though the downstairs was (and is) still unfinished. Not long afterward, my 16 year old daughter came downstairs one night and said she heard some whispering in her room.

Okay, no big deal -- imagination perhaps, or so we thought -- and of course we all had some feelings of someone being behind us at times and we just thought what most people might think, it was all in our heads. But that all changed one Friday morning at 6:15 a.m.

My husband and our eight year old were planning on getting up early and going hunting. We woke up to the sound of someone singing. The first time we thought it was our little boy, until we realized it was a girl. I quickly got out of bed and went and checked on both the kids -- they were sound asleep.

We listened to this little girl sing 4 times -- she was singing, "I want to play."

Brad got up and went downstairs, but of course there was nothing there.

We never forgot this, and then a few weeks went by. I came home from work, and as I walked into the house, I saw my son run around the corner (we often hide from each other as a game when one of us come home). I pulled on the light and said, "Tucker! I see you!"

But there was no answer.

I searched all his hiding places, but I found nothing. Then, I called his grandma, and yes, he was there playing with his cousin.

My husband has seen the little girl twice, once on the stairs and once looking in our porch window. It's not scary, but I would like to know the history of our house, I think.

Was it the sprites or the muses in ancient Greek mythology who sang to their guests? Let's see, I have a dusty old copy of Webster's Collegiate Dictionary up on that middle shelf -- I'll get it down and open it -- and, yes, here it is: it says it was the muses! And, guess what? They presided over song and poetry, and the arts and sciences. What's more is they were considered a source of pure inspiration.

Funny thing about this ghost stuff -- we all seem to assume the ghost must be from the recent past -- but possibly, this little elfin creature was from a very, very long time ago and has appeared to lead you on an inspirational journey. Listen carefully in the time ahead and see where you might follow. Pay attention to the times of day she appears.

One more thing. I noted your husband was going off on a day of hunting -- do you possibly think she might have been trying to tell you something about the woodland creatures? Either to protect them or protect your family? If so, make sure that extra safety precautions are exercised for such trips, especially if she makes herself known on days when "the boys" are heading to the forest.

Meanwhile, enjoy her -- I wish we could have such a gentle creature for a friend. What a gift! You should investigate her origins when you have a chance and I suggest starting at the local library, and the local theater club -- see if anyone has any history you can unearth.



After Glow
by Scott Fleming
Hailing From: Orem, Utah
Where it Happened:
The town graveyard

To understand this story, it is important to understand just a few other things first. To start, I am not what you would call over-imaginitive. Second, the place where the story takes place is a location I've been at least a dozen times when no spooky events occurred. And last, every word of this account is true.

In Provo, Utah there is a city cemetery about a mile south of BYU. I grew up in the area and during high school it was the rage to take your date to the cemetery fence and walk slowly down the edge of the cemetery until you could see three tombstones glowing bright red in the night. It never failed to scare your date (or whoever else you were with).

The story behind the tombstones was that they were three friends who had joined a cult while in high school, and after wishing to leave the cult had been killed. They supposedly kept watch over their tombstones and the red glow was a warning to others.

Personally, I knew that the tombstones were in fact middle-aged people who were buried there and the red glow came from a neon sign across the street from the cemetery. I discovered this one night when a friend of mine had entered the cemetery to see just whose tombstones were the ones that glowed at night. Several months after that, some friends and I took our dates to the cemetery, as was custom. It was after midnight, and along the way we told scary stories (just like you can read here) and tried our best to make the girls uncomfortably nervous. When they were quite frightened we arrived at the cemetery fence, and stopped the car.

The girls were so scared they huddled together just outside of the car door. And my friends and I of course ran up to the fence to see the glowing tombstones, knowing that there was nothing behind the stories of cults or murders. As we walked along the side of the cemetery, I noticed I had fallen a little behind the group, and an uneasy feeling began to creep over me. Remember, I'd been here several times, and I knew that the stories were fictitious, but all the same, I couldn't shake that feeling.

As we walked, the first of the three glowing tombstones appeared. It was a few hundred meters from the fence but the light was bright enough to easily be seen from the road where we stood. I was feeling a little bit more relaxed as we walked and I began to joke around a little. My joking trailed off, however, when I looked up to see one of my friends who had stopped dead in his tracks with his eyes wide open staring into the cemetery.

Cold chills ran all the way down my spine into my shoes.

I looked to where he pointed and saw the reason for his terror. In the midst of the three glowing tombstones we could see distinctly several forms, each as tall as a man and all of them appeared to be dressed all in white. None of us could say for sure how many were there, but we all agreed that there more than three. They stood there in the middle of the cemetery, right in the middle of those headstones that glowed blood red. They didn't move or say a thing, but each of us felt genuine terror at the sight.

Since that night I have never been back to the cemetery. I am told that the headstones that glowed red have been glazed with a different coating so as not to reflect the light anymore. Nevertheless, the memory of that night is still as vivid as if it had been yesterday, and I will never forget the look of terror on my friend's face as he ran past me back to the car.

Nothing like a good ghost story first thing in the morning to really get your day off to a great start! Thanks for sending it in, Scott.

I hope no one minds me saying this, but Utah all by itself, without assistance of any man-made forms, in its natural landscape has an other-world appearance. With places like Bryce and Zion and Cedar Glen, it more resembles moonscape than the gentile familiarity of good old mother earth. Add to it a dash of special effects like off-site neon lighting and headstones and I can well imagine the scene would be well-set for midnight chills.

Add to the scene the human-like forms in the background and the moment is complete -- however, I can't help but wonder if some of your buddies might have turned the tables and gotten one over on you that night, but then again, if those weren't real people standing there in white robes, the cause for wonder is the reason for the chills in most of the stories that we receive. And, for those chills, we are eteranally grateful.


PostScript -- I asked the question the other day if I should continue with editing and comments after every story, and the unanimous response I received was almost overwhelming. As it turns out, the "Ayes" have it and I thank all of you for letting me know your thoughts -- and lending your support. Because of the email I received, I'll keep including the comment sections that, in my humble opinion (and affirmed by others) set this site apart for all other sites on the Net.

You see, I first started the comments, whether humorous or serious, to let people know in my own way that I appreciated their stories and the time they took to send them in. Today, I want to continue in that tradition because I feel it lends another dimension to the site, adds a touch of comic relief, and in that mode, it shows my appreciation.

So that you know, when I am writing my comments, I put in words exactly what I feel after editing the stories, and I listen to a very special inner voice each and every time. I don't plan them out, they just happen. Sometimes the voice is incredibly soft and distant, and other times it nearly screams to be put in print just the way I hear it (make your own conclusions if I am crazy or not, it's perfectly ok) -- and so I cannot promise if they will be serious or humorous and all I can hope for is that I never step on anyone's toes -- if I do, let me know and I'll do whatever I can to be sure that everyone comes away with a good chill when visiting Ghostories. I treasure all my visitors to this site -- a site that basically has adopted me and not the other way around.



You deserve a shirt today

Ghostories Banner




The last time they saw Old Jim he had been eating a tuna sandwich down near the boiler. He had just waved us off and said he'd be up in a few minutes, after he finished his lunch -- but he never emerged from that hopeless pit. They found him the next day in such a condition as not fit for print, at least in proper articles of human communication. To this day most of us figure things might have gone just a little bit different had the workmen fixed that old casement just above the fusebox. But with that small opening anything could have come through it -- and most of us figure that it wasn't just anything that did.


Hey there! Reserve a GhosTee . . . after all, you only live once! Right?

O'Neill Ghostories ® 1996 - 2000
Ghastly Productions GhostTee Shirts & Sweatshirts
O'Neill's Ghostories Multi-Regional Fan Club
Semi-Annual Ghostories Plantation Hayrides
Afterlife Tours Entertainment
Blindfolded Croquet & Badminton Workshops