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Introduction
(Member Stories are right after this "intro"-- to advance, Click Here)

Note: If you indicated you would like to reserve a GhosTee, but haven't yet filled out the form, please do that soon so that we can be sure one is made for you. Also, while you're at it, let me know if you would like to order one for a friend -- we're trying to boost up the order and appreciate any and all help we can get.

Anyway, just a word about this "members only" stuff you've been hearin'. For the longest time, I've been contemplating making an area for those who would like to be considered "members," and so I finally decided to put up a special page. Now, don't get the wrong idea, you won't have to be a member to come and read. Shoot, that would defeat the whole purpose. On the contrary, anyone is Welcome to Visit, anytime, 24-hours a day. What we are going to do here though is post the stories of those who have expressed the desire to become a member of Ghostories.
-- Your Very Humble Webmaster, Ken O'Neill

Pages designed for the After Life
Prices Reasonable . . . "Paid in Advance" Preferred! =[;-)

 

 

And, now -- let the fun begin!

 

"Entombed Library"
Ghostory Member Stories Table of Contents:

1 -- "When the Spirit Moves With You" . . . by E. Black
2 -- The Shadow Knows . . . by Arline Wirtz
3 -- "Dead Guys Don't Dance" . . . by E. Black
4-- "The Death Omen" . . . by Jerry W. Crawford, Jr.
5 -- "Vertically Challenged" . . . by E. Black
6 -- "RIParty" . . . by Elissa Keirstead
7 -- "Little Ghost Friend" . . . by Jean Skytta
8 -- "Terminal Philosophy" . . . by E. Black
9 -- "Resident Thermostat" . . . by Kenneth L. Shank
10 - "Wind Beneath My Wings" . . . by Krista Fells

 

 

 

When the Spirit Moves With You
by Ghostories Member: E. Black
E-mail: blakbird@lasernet.com or nurse_dani@yahoo.com
Hailing From: California
Where it Happened: Pine Ridge, S.D.

This event happened while I was back in Pine Ridge visiting family. In Pine Ridge there is no rhyme or reason to where cemeteries are placed.

There are numerous little "cemeteries" on hilltops and mixed in with the various homes. Then there is a main cemetery behind Red Cloud School (where lots of weird stuff happens there as well). I don't go back to visit very often, and because of this I am not nearly as superstitious as "the locals" when it comes to hanging around cemeteries. One of the "superstitions" which I found out the hard way is the real deal is to never go around a graveyard at dusk, and be careful who you talk to or see in the cemetery.

By my cousins house is a cemetery within walking distance on a small hill that looks over the street she lives on. I don't actually know anybody buried in the cemetery since all of my family is buried in either Red Cloud cemetery or St. Anne's cemetery. At the time (of this story) my cousins both had small daughters, and they would come by and visit often. My cousin had mentioned that he had gone up to the cemetery on the hill one evening to clean the area up a little, and while he was there he saw an old woman dressed in black standing by an older grave crying. He didn't recognize her and walked up closer to see if she was alright. He approached her and when she turned around she had only eyes but no face. My cousin was very scared and hi-tailed it outta there!

What he didn't realize was he brought a "visitor" back with him.

After this had happened my aunt started hearing things in the house, and small objects would be moved around. They figured "someone" had come down from the cemetery. My aunt is kind of a "new-ager" so she didn't find this to be upsetting, she just accepted it.

While I was there one day during broad daylight, I was sitting in the living room and I saw a little girl walking down the hall and she walked into the bedroom. I had been there only a couple of days, so I thought it was one of my two cousins little daughters. I wondered if my cousins had pulled up and she had come into the house. So I called out and then got up and looked nobody was there. I went to my aunt and asked if my cousins and their kids were there, she said no. I then told her, "Well, some kid just walked down the hallway."

Turns out it was the "little dead girl" from the graveyard.

I was really freaked out, because after that she started making her presence more known. For instance, I would wake up in the middle of the night and the bedroom light would be on, the door would be open, I would shut it, and it would open back up again. Weird stuff like that. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well until I left.

The Ghost Mansion at Disneyland issues an eirree warning towards the end of their "tour" which proclaims, "Beware of Hitchiking Ghosts!" And, I suppose that their must definitely be something to it now that I've read this story. One thing for sure, I'm definitely not bringing any spirits home from our local cemetary any time soon -- that is, well, unless they decide to buy a GhosTee! I imagine if that were to happen they would be the ultimate in site publicity! Shoot, I might not even have to beg Yahoo to list my sites!

 

 

 

The Shadow Knows
by Ghostories Member: Arline Wirtz
Proud New Owner of an O'Neill's Ghostory GhosTee
E-mail: kc5thi@qsl.net
Hailing From: San Antonio, Texas
Where it Happened: In my own house

The house I bought is over a hundred years old. The events started not to long after we moved in.

There's a shadow that seems to stay in the kitchen most of the time. My dogs won't enter the kitchen when the shadow is lurking about. Things are misplaced and things are moved around. The water runs in the bathroom sometimes and nobody is around except for myself and the dogs.

There was a child that died in the house we're but not sure whether the spirit is the child or the child's mother. We have learned to live with it. That's my story and there is more to it.

Hi Arline! Thanks for your story. Sounds like some research at the County or City/County Library might help out a whole bunch here. You should really find out more about the history of the house, for example, records, entries, reports, etc. they might have logged -- and if they lead to specific dates, go for the files of the old newspapers. You might just find out more than you bargained for and it could prove to be very enlightening. Let us know what happens, ok?

Shadows are generally very shy ghosts who did something they regret in their past lives and really mean no harm other than to draw attention to themselves. They haven't been gone long enough to develop the tools necessary to do much more than affect lighting patterns and your visual perception. But, if they learn to move objects, you very well might have a problem on your hands. My advice is to "learn more."

 

 

 

And now, for a moment of some well-deserved comic relief!

 

And, a newsflash from TB's competitor, Carls Jr:

Continuing its popular add campaign featuring the tag phrase, "IF IT DOESN'T GET ALL OVER THE PLACE, IT DOESN'T BELONG IN YOUR FACE", Carl's Junior has announced the hiring of their new spokesperson,
Monica Lewinski.

 

 

And Here's Something to Tickle the Funny Bone:

A police officer had a perfect hiding place for watching speeders. But one day, everyone was under the speed limit, the officer found the reason for it. A 10yr old boy was standing on the side of the road with a huge hand painted sign which said:

"RADAR TRAP AHEAD."

A little more investigation work led the officer to the boy's accomplice. Another 10yr old boy about 100 yards beyond the radar trap with sign reading:

"TIPS"

and a bucket at his feet, full of change.

 

 

 

 

Dead Guys Don't Dance
by Ghostories Member: E. Black
E-mail:blakbird@lasernet.com or nurse_dani@yahoo.com
Hailing From: California
Where it Happened: Pine Ridge, S.D.

This story happened when I was 18 years old. My friend Kris had just moved to Reno, Nevada (about 30 miles North of Carson City) into her first apartment. This apartment was a regular run of the mill one bedroom apartment. Nothing special, and within the budget of someone just getting out of high school. When Kris was moving in with the help of a boyfriend and some other friends there was still some "junk" in the apartment from the previous tenant. You know how when you first move into a place there are little scraps of paper, pins, buttons etc. especially in the closets and stuff? Well, while they were cleaning up they found a driver's license.

It was a guy's license and he was over 21. (We all know where this is headed right?)

Anyway, Kris's then boyfriend who was under 21 figured this was a real lucky find! He could use it to go out and get into the clubs and go drinking in the casinos. (We all had false ID's back then, but having an unaltered license was the best!)

Kris got moved into the apartment and initially everything was going great, but then she started to notice some odd things happening in and around her apartment. For starters, whenever she would come home the light in the walk-in closet would be on. At first she just thought that she had left it on when she was getting dressed, but after a few more times when she was sure that she had turned it off and then it was on she started getting a little freaked out about it. After this had gone on awhile, the window in her bedroom would also be found open. She even went so far as to lock and nail it shut, sure enough she got back from work and it was open. Small things also began to be misplaced and then show up somewhere else in the apartment.

Finally one night Kris, her boyfriend and a group of friends went out to a club called The Premiere Club in Reno. When they were standing at the door waiting to get in the bouncer was of course doing the prerequisite ID checks. When the bouncer got to Kris's boyfriend who had used this ID already numerous times before, he took a look, stopped and then got really angry. He kept saying over and over, "This isn't you, this isn't you" -- and of course Kris's boyfriend started to sweat the load, because he thought for sure he had somehow been found out. He tried to bluff saying yes it was him, but the bouncer only stared back at him and said, "I know this guy" and repeated, "This isn't you."

As it turns out, the young man who the ID did belong to was the one that was found in Kris' closet. Not long before, he had hung himself in that very same closet and was found dead there.

Needless to say, Kris moved out of the apartment pronto.

Wow, turns out I'm speechless once again! I guess we always tend to think that when we find a missing wallet, a dollar bill, a credit card, a quarter on the sidewalk -- that the previous owner is out there wondering how in the world it could have ever gotten away from them. One thing I'm sure of, we would never stop to think that maybe it was the misplaced item that really got away!

Whew! Even gives me chills!!

 

 

The Death Omen
by Ghostories Member: Jerry W. Crawford, Jr.
Proud New Owner of an O'Neill's Ghostory GhosTee
E-mail: jwcrawford@surry.net
Hailing From: Pilot Mountain, North Carolina
Where it Happened: Glade Springs, Va.
Favorite Author: Tom Clancy
Interested in Arranging Ghostories "Meets"

My father and mother were both born and raised in the southwestern part of Virginia, where ghost stories are not uncommon. What I am about to tell you I found extremely unnerving.

It happened to my father when he was a teenager. He didn't have a car at the time, so he and his friends decided that they would walk wherever they went. On this evening, they decided to go to the movies. They followed the train tracks to and from the theater so as to not get lost.

On the return trip, my father looked and noticed his shoe was untied, so he stopped to tie it. His two friends, who were brothers, kept going. When dad caught back up to them, they had a look of sheer horror on their faces.

"Did you see that?" One of them managed to ask.

"No," dad said,"What was it?"

"It was a casket, a gray casket," one replied, "It rolled right up to us, and opened up. Our daddy was inside it, in a blue suit. Then it just disappeared."

Dad just shook his head, and the three of them kept walking. When they got to the brother's house, their mother was on the steps -- and she was crying.

The boys' father had passed away. He was buried a few days later, in a gray casket, wearing a blue suit. The boys' mother was a full-blooded Cherokee Indian, and when the boys told her of their experience on the train tracks, she explained to them that they had seen what the Cherokee refer to as "The Death Omen."

I share your feeling about the story being completely unnerving. Very few stories compel me to walk around and turn on a couple more lights -- maybe even look over my shoulder a time or two while typing this comment. This is one of them. I would rate this one, on the Ghostories Chill Scale of one to ten, a definite 9+ (a "10" would mean we would all have to run for cover, so the 9+ means we're still reading this part of the comment!) =[:-)

Thank you very much for sending it in! Now, where did I leave that movie guide?

 

 

 

Vertically Challenged
by Ghostories Member: E. Black
E-mail:blakbird@lasernet.com or nurse_dani@yahoo.com
Hailing From: California
Where it Happened: On Board a U.S. Navy Destroyer

Anyone who has ever served in the Navy has certainly heard a ghost story or two. Although deaths in peace time on board naval ships is rare, it does occasionally happen -- usually due to mishaps or suicide. And, although rare, murders occur as well.

This particular ship was a destroyer -- and this destroyer was "haze gray and underway" most times. When a ship is underway one must perform their usual duties, plus collateral duties, and stand various watches. The watches that can be the longest are when you are standing out on the ship somewhere at night in the middle of the ocean. There had been various rumors aboard this particular ship that people saw someone walking around the ship in places that they didn't belong and when challenged would simply disappear.

One night a friend of mine had the watch. It was around 1:00 a.m. or so and he was standing out by the fan tail after having walked around and was having a smoke. He was of course, still looking around but in the middle of the night there isn't anyone to see. Suddenly he saw a shape that was "darker than the rest of the dark" standing silhouetted by the tower area of the ship. This was an area that a person wouldn't have any business being in at that time of night. So my friend "D" yelled out, "Hey you up there!" He expected for someone to yell back down.

Instead the "person" ran STRAIGHT UP the side of the tower and onto the radar equipment.

There is no way that a "real person" could have done this. It had the outline of a man and was the same size as a shipmate would be. Once he reached the top of the tower he just vanished. My friend "D" came back down after his watch and started talking about the "weird sh**" he just saw and of course that's when the other stories started rolling in.

Turns out, at times sound powered phones through the ship would ring even if they weren't in use at the time. Or the phones on board the ship which are usually out of service when the ship is underway would ring. If someone picked the phone up they would just hear static and silence. Other men reported that they had seen a man walking around corners and disappearing from the passageways before anyone could catch up with him. And others had also seen the "sailor" out on various parts of the ship at night. Did someone die on board? Chances are somewhere along the line someone has, but who was this? No one ever did find out.

Thanks for the story, "E," another good one for sure -- and actually I am really surprised that this is the first "naval" story to arrive on Ghostories. You're right that the journals and galleys are filled with onboard tales of sightings and hauntings -- and I bet we could make an entire library for them here on Ghostories someday -- and probably should. Ships are perfect settings for such tales -- the darkness of night, the way their hulls moan as they struggle through the waves -- the tightening of their taut cables and continued "testing" of rivets that hold them together . . . unearthly sounds that emanate from deep in their interiors like no other place in the universe.

Ghosts have been haunting ships since man first set sail -- back when man was certain that the earth was flat and fearful dragons lived on it's faraway edges. But here is an intriguing question we can ask ourselves: Was the apparition really "running up the tower" -- or could this have been a "ghostly reenactment" of a ship's last and fatal moments -- a ship that might have gone down at the exact longitude and latitude that D's ship was passing over. If that was so, then he might have not just been seeing merely a singular ghost performing an unearthly feat, but possibly he was witness to a temporally displaced event when the ghost became a ghost? If so the tower, that would have normally been vertical, could have really been horizontal (like in the "Titanic")?! Imagine the night as it is played out: Men disappearing down corridors, phones going off but filled with silence. I'll bet if they could have produced sounds other than static, it would have been the final words, "Mayday! Mayday!"

Here's another: If this event was anything like what happened in the "The Flying Dutchman," then possibly that night they came very close to picking up their own new passenger . . . and maybe it's a good thing that the ghost didn't answer back!

 

 

 

RIParty
by Ghostories Member: Elissa Keirstead
E-mail: ekeirst@interpath.com
Hailing From: Gastonia, NC
Where it Happened: Forest Park, Georgia
Favorite Author: Anne Rice

The following events occurred when I was about 7 years old, but I remember them like it was yesterday. My family had just moved into a newly constructed apartment, so you wouldn't think it would be a place for ghosts, but it was.

The first encounter I had was at about 3:00 in the morning. I woke up to what sounded like my parents having a party. So I got out of bed and sat at the top of the stairs, I could hear voices laughing and talking. The lights were on but seemed dimmer than they usually were. Not wanting to miss a party, I decided to go downstairs and see what was going on. All the way down the stairs I could hear voices, but it seemed as if the light was growing dimmer, there was a solid wall separating the stairs from the living room, so I couldn't see what was going on. When I reached the bottom of the stairs the light turned off but I could still hear the voices talking and laughing.

I thought maybe my parents decided to go out to the patio, so I switched on the light in the living room. As I did, the voices stopped. I searched the downstairs . . . but no one was there!

I ran back upstairs to my parents room, where I found them sleeping soundly. The "party" happened several other times that I remember. Years after I moved, I asked my mother about it, she said she had heard it too. The second event happened at an actual party my parents did have at the apartment. I had been sent upstairs to bed and had been there for about 30 minutes when I heard someone walking up the stairs. Since we had a house full of people I didn't think anything of it. The footsteps stopped outside my bedroom door, I was lying with my back to the door, I heard the door open, (the door stuck a little bit at the top so you had to push on it to open it), then I felt somebody sit down on my bed and place their hand on my back. The hand felt very large and extremely cold. I thought it was my dad, but when I rolled over there was no one there.

I could see an impression of someone sitting on the bed, but there was no one there. I was too scared to make a sound, so I closed my eyes and acted like I was asleep. A few minutes later, it got up and opened the door and left the room.

Our apartment wasn't the only one with strange happenings. When I was older my mother often told me stories of what happened with our neighbors (strange noises, things being moved, doors and windows being opened and closed). A good friend of ours had a presence in her apartment, she tried to make contact with it, but it never answered.

Thanks so much for the story Elissa, and welcome to Ghostories!

This is the second story in 10 days about an afterlife party going on -- and I guess it confirms that the great beyond may not be all that bad after all! I just wonder, since the apartment building wasn't old, just what drew them to your unit -- and if you ever found any stray RSVP's or spilled drink spots on the carpeting! I wonder if they ever ran out of chips and dip?! (And, I betcha their Martinis were extra dry!)

Oh, and whatcha wanna bet they were doing the "Limbo!"

 

Now gather 'round, we have a new member to Ghostories. Let's give her a warm welcome and hear her story -- I think we'll need to turn on a light or two before it is all over!

 

 

 

He Came Back for Me
by Ghostories Member: Jean Skytta
Hailing From: Champion, Michigan
Where it Happened: Spurr Township, My House
Favorite Author: Bram Stoker

The first story I told you about my house in Spurr was the first time that anything strange had ever happened there, but it sure wasn't the last.

First, I think I should give you a little background information. When I lived in Spurr, I was married to a guy named Gary. He died of a major heart attack in November of 1991. I lived in the house until June of 1992. During those eight months, my house became what I would like to call, very lively. This story isn't really scarry, but it does prove that not all ghosts have to be terrifying.

When my husband died, I was devastated. For the first time in my life I wasn't sure if I could go on, or if I even wanted to. I cried constantly. Everything I saw or heard, always seemed to remind me of him.

About two weeks after he died, I had sent my daughter Trina to my mother's house for the night. I hadn't been alone even once since Gary's death and I felt that I needed the time alone. I knew I would most likely spend most of the evening crying again and I knew my poor daughter needed a break from my crying. I had to get my grief under control for my daughter's sake and I hoped that by being alone I might be able to come to terms with my feelings and go on.

I watched T.V. for awhile, cleaned the house and ate a small luncheon for supper. It had been three hours and I still didn't cry. I was proud of myself for that. I started to get tired, so I turned off all the lights and laid on the couch. I tried hard to resist it but the tears came anyways. I was crying harder then, than ever before. It hurt so bad that I began to imagine a way to make it stop hurting. I thought if I could go to sleep and never wake up, I could be with him again.

Suddenly a cool breeze, not a cold one, just a cool one seemed to drift across my face and with it came the scent of Gary's favorite cologne. I sat up on the couch and scanned the room, thinking that he was going to appear and all of this had just been a terrible nightmare. I saw nothing but I could smell his cologne even stronger. My heart began to race and I knew that he was there with me. Then I noticed that it felt like somebody had just sat down next to me becuse the couch springs seemed to groan a little and I knew it wasn't me, because I hadn't moved.

The funny thing was, I wasn't scared.

For the first time since his death, I felt safe and I knew I would be okay. I leaned back against the couch and just let what I knew was Gary comfort me with his presence. I cried and I told him how much I loved and missed him. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be to be in his arms once more. Incredibly enough, I felt what seemed like someone putting their arms around me very gently. I can remember feeling so happy and contented. I closed my eyes and fell asleep in my husband's arms.

When I awoke the next morning, I faced the day with new hope and a happiness inside that I hadn't felt in along time. I knew he wanted me to go on for our daughter's sake. I remembered telling him that I would survive for our child. I finally felt like I could let him go and I told him that before I went to pick up Trina.

The only thing was, Gary never really left. Many other things happened that I knew was him, but I didn't mind. It was comforting to know that he was always there with me. Not all the things that happened in that house were good though. Some were down right mean and cruel. I know that Gary would never have been so mean, so I can only assume that there was another presence there in my house.

But that's another story.

I came really close to re-naming this story, "Asleep in His Arms Once More," but I stuck with the title that you slected, Jean. I thank you for it. It was moving, to say the least. Separation and the pain and anguish it causes cannot be explained or truly related to anyone who hasn't really, really been there. Every street, every boardwalk, every alcove people talk together and walk together can be strikingly painful. It is as if the colors of the day have been removed and drained from the canvas of life -- and all we see are seemingly endless shades of gray.

The closest I've ever heard the feeling truly related was when it was put to music by the master musician, Jackson Browne in his timeless song, "Sleeps Dark and Silent Gate."

 

 

 

Little Ghostfriend
by Ghostories Member: Jean Skytta
Hailing From: Champion, Michigan
Where it Happened: Spurr Township, Michigan
Favorite Author: Bram Stoker

First I need to tell you that until this incident, I didn't believe in ghosts, spirits or any thing that I couldn't see or touch -- but my six year old daughter, we will call her "K," made a believer out of me.

It was a Saturday afternoon and my husband was away at work, just me and my daughter were home. I was upstairs putting some clothes away and she was playing with her toys downstairs on the front room floor. When I finished, I started down the stairs and stopped on the first landing. I was looking out the window when suddenly K said, "Mommy who's that girl standing next to you?"

I turned around and looked down the stairs at K and asked her, "What girl?"

She started to laugh and said that I was teasing her.

I told her that mommy was not teasing her, that there was no little girl next to me. She looked at me and smiled and said, "Yes there is mommy, she is standing by you."

" Who is she mommy?" K asked.

"Can I play with her?"

By this time I was definitely getting spooked but once again I told her that there was nobody next to me. K just kept insisting that there was a girl next to me. I kept looking around but could not see anything that would make K think that there was someone there.

I asked K what the girl was wearing and what she looked like. K then told me, "She's pretty mommy. She has a real nice dress on and she has long hair like mine."

I asked her if the girl looked like her and she said, "No, her hair is real light and I don't have a pretty dress like hers."

Now I was really spooked because the hair on my arms stood straight up and I suddenly felt really cold. K just kept asking if she could play with the girl but I was too shocked to even answer. Just then K laughed and said that Carrie was going to be her new friend because she promised. I asked K how she knew the girls name and she said because she told her. Right then and there, I had had enough and I started down the stairs. K cried out that I had scared Carrie and now she was gone. I picked her up in my arms and said I was sorry but there was no girl and I thought that maybe she was imagining it. When I put her down, she said that she was there and she promised that she would come back and come back she did, until we moved out of the house when K was 10.

Many times after that, I could hear my daughter talking to this girl. On one occasion, I thought I heard the voice of another child that was not my daughter. When I questioned K about it, she smiled and said see mommy I told you Carrie was here. When we moved out of the house, K never said her name again. I asked her about a week after we moved out of the house where Carrie was? She got a very confused look on her face and asked me who Carrie was?

Nothing else was ever said about Carrie. Many times since then I have wondered about K's little playmate. Was she just a figment of a lonely little girls imagination or was she real? I guess we will never know.

Inside each and every one of us is a voice. Call it your inner friend, call it what you will -- your inner voice is there. If you don't believe me, try going somewhere really boring, where you have to wait around for hours, and you'll hear it loud and clear -- that is, if you listen for it. But most of the time you'll hear it only softly. Sometimes when you're in heavy traffic it might caution you to watch out, veer left -- tell you that bozo over there is going to cause you some grief -- that sort of thing.

When you're young is when your voice even has the opportunity to come out and play -- to keep you company and be your friend, and help you through each day as you grow and explore that world around you that many times is hard to understand.

It's when your surroundings change that the line becomes blurred and the wonder sets in. Where was that voice really coming from? Was the voice with you in your imagination? Or, was it coming through to you from some other place? Through some other passageway, from some other dimension?

I guess we will never know, ah, unless you have the opportunity to take K back to see and walk through her old home -- the place where she grew up from 6 to 10. Maybe she'll find another little girl there who also knows exactly who Carrie is -- and why she remained in that house, possibly to befriend its current occupants.

I have to go now -- I think I hear something calling me . . .

 

 

 

Terminal Philosphy
by Ghostories Member: E. Black
E-mail:blakbird@lasernet.com or nurse_dani@yahoo.com
Hailing From: California
Where it Happened: My Place of Employment

I work in a nursing home (this particular nursing home has been open and operating since the mid 1950's) and of course a large number of my patients are either elderly or terminally ill -- or both. So it isn't any real surprise that where I work has many a strange happening especially at night!

For the last 14 months I have worked the "Swing Shift". A few times I have stayed and worked part of the "Graveyard Shift" but I really don't like too -- since where I work is so creepy after dark. We've had more than our fair share of strange happenings.

For starters, our medical records office used to be kept in a little one bedroom bungalow style dwelling on the grounds which has since been converted to an office area. In this office was an old kitchen filled with the usual stuff -- fridge, microwave, and sink. When only a couple of people are there working the microwave is quiet, but when there is a lot of people coming in and out, and if there is alot of activity, the microwave starts beeping like someone is pushing all of the buttons.

One day I commented on this and one of the girls told me that the last resident who lived in the bungalow died on the couch, so they refer to the beeping as "The Ghost."

Another weird thing that happened, which is sad and strange at the same time and which may or may not have to do with the building at all is about a year ago when a woman who hadn't walked in years somehow got out of her bed, over the side rails on the bed, and "walked" to the doorway without anybody hearing it. (Late at night you can hear a pin drop) . . .

. . . Then she fell down dead.

In this particular area all the patient rooms are linked together in pairs joined in the middle by a bathroom with doors on both sides. Sometimes one person has to wait in order for the other person using the bathroom to finish. One afternoon one of our residents came down the hall as fast as she could, white as a sheet. We asked her what was the matter and she told us that she had been getting ready to go into the bathroom and when she reached for the doorknob it suddenly started to turn on its own. At first she didn't think anything of it, she assumed it was another person using the bathroom who was getting ready to step out. So she said out loud, "Come on out."

Nobody came out and the doorknob stopped turning. So she opened the door and looked in, there was no one there. She went through the bathroom and out the other door into the next room, there was no one in there either.

(Keep in mind our patients are all older folks so none of them could've gotten out of the room that fast!!!)

This last experience is one that I experienced personally. I had one particular patient who was a cranky old man. He wasn't mean or anything, just grumpy. He could get pretty demanding and he was also very stubborn. He pretty much harassed all the nurses, just for the heck of it. Usually asking the same question over and over again, or if he wanted something and you didn't give it to him instantly he would holler at the top of his lungs. But the most irritating thing that he would do is ring his call bell every 10 seconds for hours at a time. Whoever was his nurse would go see what he wanted, then turn the bell off, and before she could get to the doorway of his room he would push the bell again! (You all get the picture I'm sure).

Anyway, life went on like this for months until one day he got sick and things didn't look good for him. We called the ambulance and got ready to send him to the big hospital for treatment. He was pretty scared and this was the first time I ever saw him anything but cranky. He kept asking if he would be all right, I didn't want to give him false hope, but I also didn't want to write him off either so I told him to hang in there and come back to us soon. I walked out to the ambulance with him and saw him off. About an hour later I was at the nurses station -- and I hear a call bell start ringing. The nursing assistant went to see who was ringing and she came back to the nurses desk without turning it off.

The only thing she said was "you gotta come see this."

It was the cranky old man's call bell! He died the next day at the big hospital. Coincidence?

 

 

Resident Thermostat
by Ghostories Member: Kenneth L. Shank
Proud New Owner of an O'Neill's Ghostory GhosTee
E-mail: Kshank45@aol.com
Hailing From: Kingsport TN
Where it Happened: Hawkins County, TN

People often say that ghosts are a bunch of hooey, and for many folks that may well be the case. However, it isn't until the time that one actually has a true encounter that one becomes a true believer. I have 3 stories to tell (I'll tell just one for now) and, as God is my witness, what I am about to tell is the truth.

In January of 1985, I remarried and we settled into an old farm house in Surgionsville, Tennessee. My new wife told me that the place was haunted by the former owner, a lady by the name of Maude Culberston. Maude had passed away, I think, two years before my wife bought the house.

I had encounters before and I really had no reason to disbelieve her, because they were nothing new to me. She told me that Maude disliked a certain book she kept in her book case and sometimes she would hurl the book onto the floor. I never saw this happen, but I did on many occasions see it on the floor -- and I knew that there was no way that book could have jumped on the floor by itself.

Sometimes I would be alone at night when Carol, my wife, was at school and I would hear noises and see things out of the corner of my eye. This was nothing compared to what I am about to tell you.

I will never forget this as long as I live. We had just had a major snow storm and, since we heated the house with coal, someone had to make sure that the stove wouldn't burn out -- so I was elected. Carol was taking her nightly bath three rooms away from where I was.

To verify what I am about to say -- I had just come from the bathroom and when I left her she was up to her neck in bubbles. When I went back to the living room I noticed a chill in the air. I thought to myself if I let that fire burn out she'll kill me. So, I opened the stove door and began stuffing huge pieces of coal into it.

I was just getting ready to throw the last piece in when suddenly a very loud and ear-breaking voice yelled, "STOP!! STOP!!"

It really scared the hell out of me. At first I thought it was Carol but when I turned around there was no one there. Then I got really scared and ran through the house back to the bathroom where I found Carol still up to her neck in bubbles. I told her what had happened and she simply said I would yell at you too if you tried to burn the house down.

Carol told me that Maude was saving her house from an "ignorant city boy who knew nothing about coal burning stoves." Which was true -- I never thought about putting too much coal in it.

Like I said at the beginning of my story, to be a true believer you have to have an experience like this. And I know this story is true, So Help Me God.

Thanks, Ken. These are truly the best type of encounters -- residual residents who linger around to protect many a cherished domain! Truly ghosts with just that something more -- to protect us from ourselves (we have met the enemy and he is us!).

Thanks very much for the story, your purchase of the "tee" and a big welcome to you as a new member of Ghostories!

I will have more soon to comment upon as refection of this story, but first I have to run to the garage and make sure the pilot light is running on our heater. I should return soon, however after reading this story, on even that assurance I would imagine there may be some doubt!

Oh shoot, the only matches I have with me at the moment say, "Firehouse Restaurant, Pomona" -- could this be an omen?!

 

 

Wind Beneath My Wings
by Ghostories Member: Krista Fells
Proud New Owner of an O'Neill's Ghostory GhosTee
E-mail:MerrionS2@aol.com
Hailing From: Asheville, NC
Where it Happened: Stanhope, NJ

On July 4, 1994, after I had finished my second year of a three year school, my boyfriend Matt asked me to marry him. I was thrilled. The next day, I drove home to tell my family in Pennsylvania, a two hour drive. I was to return the day after on July 6th. I left as planned, though running very late because of a storm never seen before in the area. Driving back to New Jersey, I saw lightening of all colors, green, yellow, blue. It was actually quite beautiful, but I remember thinking someone was really angry.

When I got back to the house I called to share with Matt and his best friend only to find out that earlier that day, Matt had been hit and killed by a car.

I was devastated and the following month or so is still a blur. My friends tell me that I looked as if someone had slapped me across the face. I spent some time in therapy and decided to return to the house in New Jersey for my final year of school -- and I decided to return alone.

My roommates were not to return for about a week or so. I suppose I wanted some time to myself or something. This is where things started happening. The only "living" beings in the house were me and my cat, Troll. Now you must understand, Troll is a very fat, lazy cat. His idea of exercise is a walk to the food bowl. My sweet lazy kitty now took to sitting at the base of the stairs that led to the three bedrooms upstairs, and mewing at nothing. Matt's room was at the top of the stairs. This bothered me some because I didn't understand enough about spirits to not fear them. So I would turn the TV or radio up and pull my book closer to my nose.

During this time, a woman who used to work with Matt would come by daily to check on me -- make sure I hadn't taken out the neighborhood, that sort of thing. One night, she brought me a box of chocolates, and as we were both stuffing out faces, I told her about how odd my cat was behaving. At that moment Troll walked into the room and looked immediately to the stairs. I told her, "Watch." Troll sat himself down at the base of the stairs, ears perked forward, mewing up the stairs. The woman and I just stared for a bit when my cat did something he had never done before, and let me tell you, I was really glad I was not alone. Troll bound up the stairs directly into Matt's room.

Now I had never gone up there after moving back in. All of his things were exactly as he left them. The woman and I looked at each other, and soon our curiosity outweighed our fear and we quietly followed up the stairs. Peeking in Matt's room, we saw Troll slinking around, all his fur standing straight up. He looked like a big, white basketball. She looked at me, I looked at her, and we both said, "I'm not going in after him."

So we went back downstairs figuring Troll would come back down on his own. Eventually, we both calmed down, purposely not talking about my poor cat. She was about to leave and we were saying out good-byes when Troll came literally flying down the stairs, which I happened to be standing next to. Now, Matt never did like my cat in his room, so go figure. Just as my cat hit the only step he touched, the last one, a wind -- not cold, not warm, just wind -- went right through me. The woman told me later I screamed, and she saw my hair lift from the wind, so I was not imagining things. Needless to say, she stayed with me a little while longer.

After that, not much happened until my roommate and best friend, Trish, moved back in a few days later. I told her about all that had happened (on a side note, my cat denied everything by acting perfectly fine). She didn't laugh at me, but I could tell she didn't really believe me either. She accounted it more to the stress from surviving Matt's death.

Anyway, one of our favorite things to do was to go walking in the small state park that was close by. Inside this park, was an old train waystation we all called "The Crumbledown House" because of it's decay. It was Matt's absolute favorite place to go to think or just sit and listen to nature. A bit of a description of the house is in order I think. The "floor" of the house had sunk quite a ways, all around stones and rubble lined the rim about 6 feet up a steep incline. There were only two walls that were intact completely, one of which had the door to the inside. Part of a third wall was still there also. So when Trish and I got to the house, she went in through the door, while I circled around to the partial wall, talking the entire time. I was walking along the stones when my foot twisted on one, and I started falling, backwards, down the steep hill to the floor. I was windmilling my arms like mad trying to keep from falling, but it was hopeless, and worse, I knew it. I gave Trish this resigned look and just let myself fall. As I fell I thought, "I'm going to crack my skull wide open on one of those rocks on the floor." -- which was exactly what my head was aimed for.

But something warm surrounded me, and I felt this burning on my back.

Now bear in mind, there were a mess of rubble and rock all the way down, and more rocks to smash one's head on down on the floor. But it seemed to me as if something had caught me and was gently lowering me down. When my head got near the rocks below, it felt just as if someone was cushioning my head, never once did it hit a rock. I blinked staring at the sky for a moment then stood up, brushed myself off and chuckled to Trish, "That wasn't so bad."

Trish just stood gaping at me like a landed fish. I asked her what was wrong and she said I fell in "slow motion", then asked if I was all right. I mentioned that it felt like I had scratched my back and I lifted my shirt to see. We both looked, and there were three distinct finger marks, right where I felt the heat.

Think about it: I fell 6 feet, backwards, down rocks and rubble and not only did I not hit my head, but not a mark on me but those marks. Needless to say we thanked Matt profusely, then left quickly. But we weren't done with the day. We had to cross a busy road with a blind curve to get home. We were comparing notes with all this as we started across the street, when a speeding car came around the blind curve, straight for the two of us now positioned exactly in the middle of the road. Trish and I both blacked out as if we blinked, only to find our feet behind the yellow line at the curb. We ran the rest of the way home, laughing if you can believe that.

I missed Matt terribly, and took to having a beer before going to sleep on really rough days. I started school again, and threw myself into my artwork, more because that's what Matt would have wanted than because I really wanted. Matt didn't make an appearance in the house or anywhere else physically after that, however I would have what I called "Matt Dreams." Each of them were different, some very disturbing -- but always within three days of a "Matt Dream," something very good would happen to me, and would lift my mood.

It's now 4 years after his death, I still miss him lots and the Matt Dreams have gotten less and less. I believe this to be that he feels I don't need him to constantly reassure me or save me from falls anymore. He's letting me go and moving on. I know I'll see him again, and though I'm not suicidal, I look forward to the day we can share our stories again.

This isn't a particularly spooky story (with apologies to Troll) but I thought I'd share how loved ones still watch over us through the time when we need it the most -- after they have left us.

Krista, thank you for the story. What a lucky man Matt was -- it is a shame he passed on before sharing more of his life with you. Love, for all it's wonders, pitfalls, craziness and intricacies, truly has no bounds.

Not to break the mood, though, I did notice during my routine spellchecking, in the opening lines of the story, you reffered to him as your, "boyfiend!"