This Library Features: 45. Spaghetti Man's Last Toast . . . by Chris Sherer 46. Deaf Summer Ghost . . . by Peter 47. Your Eternal Best Friend . . . by Jason L. Langlois 48. Free Willy! . . . by Dianne De Jesus 49. Tooth Sayer . . . by Barbara Klein 50. Who's There? . . . by Samantha Schultea 51. Trains, Taps and Bannisters . . . by Dee 52. Monday's Child is Fair of Face . . . . . . by Allison Turner 53. Zero to the Bone . . . . . . by Scott Heaton 54. His and Hers Ghost . . . . . . by Lori T. 55. Phantom Father . . . . . . by Mike Houghton 56. Principal's Office . . . . . . by Keri

Spaghetti Man's Last Toast
by Chris Sherer
E-mail: zz9plusza@aol.com
Hailing From: Palm Bay, FL
Where It All Happened: Brewster, OH

I must have been about ten years old when this happened. My step-father is half Italian and followed the old family practice of making his own wine. During the seventies, he became a CB'er like so many other people. In doing so he joined a CB club. One of the members was an old man with the handle "Spaghetti Man." He became a friend of our family and would visit us from time to time.

One time while visiting, Spaghetti Man was tasting an immature yet promising wine of ours when he said, "I'll have to come back and try some more of this before I die." No one thought much about it at the time, but later we remembered his words quite well.

A few weeks had passed when we received a phone call from other members of the club to tell us that Spaghetti Man had passed away. Somehow my Mom knew that the phone call would bring bad news before it was answered ( I don't remember the exact words but she said something like, "Something's wrong."

The next evening (we were all watching CHIPS) we heard the sound of bottles rolling across the cellar floor. My step-dad started growling about what he was going to do to the "damned cat" and headed down to the cellar to take care of the problem. My little sister and I were worried that it might be a burglar and got all excited. I followed Dad as he headed for the basement and I saw our cat under Dad's desk shaking. That's when Dad came back pale and no longer angry. There were no bottles knocked off and onto the floor, yet the sound of empty bottles rolling on cement was heard and recognized by all of us.

This happened a few more times that evening and again the next few nights. During the weekend I had mentioned Spaghetti Man's wish to enjoy that wine one more time. We didn't have any of the wine siphoned into bottles at the time; it was all in five gallon jugs or barrels. My step-father and I bottled a jug of that wine on Sunday. There is always one last bottle that is never filled all the way and from that bottle my step-dad made this toast: "To Spaghetti Man where ever you are." He rinsed out his glass, put the cork halfway into the bottle, set the glass next to the bottle and we left the cellar.

We didn't hear the bottles that night and assumed that his spirit had been made happy. Monday morning my step-dad was asleep in his easy chair, my sister was outside feeding the dog we had just taken in , Mom was washing dishes and I was eating breakfast at the kitchen table. To my left were the stairs leading down to the cellar. Both my mother and I heard the "ffung..." of a cork being pulled from a bottle the "chink" of bottle meeting glass and the "glug-a-glug" of wine being poured. I looked at Mom and said, "I'm not going down there." Mom agreed with my sentiments and we both went on with our day. Later that day my step-dad found the bottle with the cork in it but a good bit gone from it.

Spaghetti Man never showed himself again. I always felt responsible because he and I shared the hobby of collecting interesting rocks and during his last visit I showed him three new additions to my collection; two of these brown pebbles were in the shape of a headstone with writing on it and the other was a very dark brown casket shape.

The above story is true and happened just like I've written it. It's not the only strange thing to happen to me but it's about the weirdest.

Wow, thanks! Neat story -- and one that wine connoisseurs, dead or alive, are sure to love! I guess you could say it's a real corker! Good until the last sip? And, what about that cellar? I've heard of things aging in a cellar, but this one takes the cake!! (Or should I have said, Cask?)

Thanks again. You Ghostories contributors are truly amazing! Bravo!

Now, shall we make a toast??

Deaf Summer Ghost
by Peter
E-mail: mcooper@bellatlantic.net
Hailing From: Williamstown, NJ
Where It All Happened: Williamstown, NJ

I want to call this story the Deaf Summer Ghost. I'd like to tell you about something that happened to me this summer. It was the best of days: you know, sunny, no clouds, the morning dew on the grass just drying. A perfect day, or so I thought.

I opened my door to let my dog out. I turned around, because I heard a noise. When I turned back around, I saw a white looking figure, dressed in what looked like old clothes walk across my lawn, and my dog stared at it like it was a ghost.

I called out to the figure, but there was no response. The figure walked a little closer to the house, I could see the detail on it's face: A red scar stood out on it's face, and it's neck was at an impossible angle.

It also wore what looked like jewelry around it's neck. I was to scared to do anything, but to yell at the dog to get in. The dog flew it, yelping at it went by me. I watched as the white figure disappeared as it turned around my house's end.

I stepped outside, and looked around the end of the house, but there was only one thing there -- something that looked like little pieces of glitter flying around in the air. Soon, they were all gone.

I thought for sure my episode was over, but not quite. Just a few nights ago, on November 15th, I saw it again. It started when the lights went out. They came back on, then repeated three times. I called my neighbor to see if this was happening there, too. It wasn't.

The doorknob on the front door started turning back and forth, and when I locked it, it continued. The glitter I told you about came back, and sprinkled down into the white figure.

It smiled at me, and looked at me as if I had done something wrong. It shook it's head, and walked into the kitchen.

As I followed, it began to disappear. Then, I found myself standing in total darkness. When the lights came back on, it was gone.

To this day, I still hear footsteps walking down the hall. And sometimes, the radio, the CD player or TV will turn on, and the volume will be turned all the way up -- which is why why I used "deaf" in the title.

This is my story. I don't care if you believe me or not. It's true. Every word. My house is strange, wouldn't you say?

Looking back through the stories in these crazy and wonderful Ghostly emporiums , recent and past, I think there are a lot of things that happen at unexpected times in unexplainable settings. My curiousity peaks though when you say at the end that your "house" is very strange. I wondered if you subconciously connect your manifestation directly together with the personality of your home -- or visa versa? What do you think? Maybe the two are somehow related?

Thanks for the great story -- I think it fits perfectly in the Haunted Library.

Now, let's see, how am I going to sell more of those GhosTees??? [vbg] I really need to get another dozen orders -- any takers?

 

Your Eternal Best Friend
by Jason L. Langlois
E-mail: jasonllanglois@unn.unisys.com
Hailing From: Austin, TX
Where It Happened: Various places in TX and CA

Let me first describe myself. I'm a large, 24 year old man who has never had a supernatural experience outside of his church (which is another story) but has always believed in ghosts and the supernatural. I write, for fun, so I have a pretty active imagination, but am not prone to imagining things as real. I've always been able to determine the difference between make believe and reality.

I used to have two Maltese poodles named Killer and Marmaduke (My father has a twisted sense of humor). Both of them passed away while I was in junior high, but they would sleep on my bed, or my sisters.

A couple of years ago, I met, over the Internet, a lovely woman. We talked a lot, and fell in love, and it came time for us to be together. Since we were in different states (I lived in California at the time) I decided to move to be with her. I really wasn't giving up much, I was working a temporary job that was about to give out anyway, and still lived with my father. My mother had passed away the year before.

Well, as one can imagine, I was still apprehensive. After all, I was 22 years old, and had never been away from my family before. The night I arrived, her sister, my girlfriend, and I went home, talked, and eventually got tired enough to sleep. There were two twin beds in the house, and her sister (a very nice girl) let me sleep in hers. My girlfriend slept in her own, which was across the room.

Well, I couldn't sleep, even though I was very tired from the trip, and laid in bed, not facing my girlfriend because she was asleep. That's when I felt someone sit on the bed. Nothing more, no hand touched me, no soothing voice, just someone sitting on the bed. I fell asleep before I could turn over. I knew my girlfriend was asleep, and her sister had gone to her boyfriends house, so we were alone.

I really didn't give it much thought... but later, when I again had trouble sleeping, I felt what could only be described as the feeling of a small animal jumping on the bed and walking on it. I'd had this feeling before, when my mother was sick, and didn't think much of it.

Nothing more happened until two years later, which brings us close to the present day.

My girlfriend and I broke up. It was an amiable split, we're still very good friends... but the night before, I felt that same feeling, of an animal getting on the bed.

Then, I fell in love with another girl, again, a ways away, and we were having problems. It came to a point one night last month that it was a choice whether or not to leave her alone and never talk to her. I was very emotionally devastated, and cried for hours. That night, I was visited again. Only this time, the feeling wasn't as if the animal curled up, it was more like she was playing, jumping on the bed and my legs. But I didn't feel any pressure on my legs! It was more the blanket that was on top of my legs, that's how light it was.

Last night, her and I were talking (We decided to remain friends, which I'm glad for.) when we were talking about ghosts. Again, I have an imagination, so I got into my story I was telling her, and subsequently... umm... scared myself. I went to bed that night with some apprehension, and sure enough, there was that feeling... "she" (I now believe this to be Marmaduke) was sniffing around the bed, and didn't settle down.

Has anyone had similar experiences? If so, please e-mail me.

I'm stumped here. We just lost a cat, though, and I have been told people still here the ol' kitty meowing round the garage from time to time. But for your timeless friend to show up especially during a time of troubles, that's a really special thing. Maybe our other ghost officianados can send ya some e-mail. If you get something juicy, copy it to us and we'll post it!

Thanks for the story . . . I knew when we posted this one that we weren't barking up the wrong tree! :^))

Free Willy!
by Dianne De Jesus
E-mail: Dee.woo23@netchannel.et
Hailing From: Augusta, Georgia
Where It Happened: SUNY Purchase College (New York)

A few years ago (I'd say in 1994), my roommate, Theresa, and I got this really crazy idea to make a Ouija board. Considering that it was a quiet night and we had nothing better to do, we enlisted the help of our friends, George and Glenn. It started out to be one big joke. It ended up not being funny in the least.

We started out by using pink oaktag. You know, the kind you do your elementary school projects on. We made the planchette out of the same cotton candy colored paper. There we sat, all four of us, trying it out, thinking it wouldn't work. To our surprise and delight, we contacted a spirit by the name of William (at least, that's the name he gave us.)

Anyway, at first, he was nice, telling us about how he lived in the same area as Theresa before he died in a fire. He made us "feel" as though he were in the room. For instance, when asked where he was sitting, he would tell us to "feel the Heat" and instantly, one of us could feel a hand, or a blast of warmth right by us. This continued for quite a while, joking, having fun, that sort of thing.

In time, things started to change. We started to get mad more often at each other. Glenn and George didn't want to come over much anymore. Then, we noticed that things around the room would disappear. I lost my keys for almost four days. Finally, I asked Theresa to check around the room. She did just that, cleaning as she went. I had to work that day, so when I came home, I asked her if she found the missing set. She told me no and that we might have had to make a spare set or change the lock. Well, I started to complain that I really didn't want to do that at all, when I noticed my keys sitting on a stack of crates. I picked them up and told her that she was absolutely blind, how could she miss them sitting right there? She told me that when she cleaned, the keys were not there. Just then, I realized something else. She had cleaned the spot. We used to burn incense on top of those crates ashes were always present. Well, not this time! And the keys would have had ashes on them if they had been sitting there for long . . .

This went on for sometime and we chalked it up to absent-mindedness. Finally, one day, we really wanted to talk to William, but we had papers to write, so we figured that we would stay on the board for only a half of an hour. After we contacted William, the time went by too quickly. We had to say goodbye. William wouldn't hear of it. "No, you won't come back.", he wrote. We said that we would after we finished our work.

The next response from him was, "No, Mine."

Theresa and I looked at each other, wide eyed. "Mine?" What does that mean? His answer to our unasked question was, "Both of you." We FLIPPED!! "Say Goodbye, William!" we told him. "NO, NO, NO..." over and over he wrote. We didn't know what to do. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and our friend, Phil, walked in. "Still playing with that stupid board?" he asked. Phil had heard about our escapades since the start of our "adventure". Anyway, the board told Phil to get out. Phil then responded that if the board didn't shut up, that he would (do something awful to) it.

Suddenly, the board said "Goodbye."

THIS WAS OUR CHANCE!! We called up the guys and arranged William's "funeral."

We all walked outdoors to the nearest barbeque pit, where we soaked the board and its planchette with lighter fluid. A we lit it we said a little prayer, hoping to keep William from finding his way back to the room. As the oaktag burnt to ash, we started to feel much better about ourselves. George ad Theresa disappeared for a while, and Glenn and I went back to the room. Once we entered, we noticed that the room felt fresh and clean. We had gotten rid of William! Or so we thought.

One year later, around the same time, we were thinking of William and all of the events that transpired. We didn't speak too much about him, William was certainly on our minds. As the night was winding down, I asked Theresa if she wanted to go to breakfast in the morning. She said that she would and where was her meal card? I saw it leaning up against a book, picture face up. Thinking myself witty, I asked Tree wouldn't it be funny if her meal card was found upside-down by the time we woke up. So funny, HAHA... Now, please understand.. There was no one else in the room but she and I. We slept in bunk beds, with me being on the upper bunk. I am a light sleeper who wakes up at the slightest movement. Theresa DID NOT get out of bed all night, but by morning, that ID card WAS UPSIDE-DOWN!!!

I told her to leave it, that I would pay for breakfast. Our nerves jittery, we left the card the way it was and went to breakfast to try and forget what had just happened. When we returned, by all that I believe sacred, that ID card was right side up again...

That was the last we "saw" of William, and the last we ever spoke of him in that room, but we will never forget him (or play with another Ouija board again).

This is a first! I'm lost for words! I've spent some times in the dorms when I was in college but never had anything like that happen. Then again, I didn't have a Ouija board. But, come to think of it, there were some scary rooms I did visit on blind dates . . . but, hey, let's not go there!

A Very Big Thanks for the story -- I appreciate you!

 

Tooth Sayer
by Barbara Klein
E-mail: atls4@worldnet.att.net
Hailing From: Philadelphia, Pa
Where It Happened: In My House

I have always been interested in the occult and studied astrology for about twenty years. This event happened about 10 years ago when my husband was out of work and we had very little money. My daughter was only abut 13 and she was suffering miserably from a toothache which had become abscessed.

The dentist had packed the tooth and she developed an infection. The doctor wanted to put her in the hospital but we didn't have hospitalization at the time so she couldn't go. My mom had passed away around that time and I was always feeling her presence in my house, like her perfume she wore, etc.

I had decided to home care her and had to drain a tube which was inserted near her throat to drain the infection. That night she was tossing and turning with a high fever and she told me she felt me come into the room and lay down on the bed with her and she felt better and finally fell asleep. The next morning she was her old self again. The infection had cleared and the fever had broke. She told me that she felt better when I entered the room and slept with her. I didn't go into her room that night.

I believed that was my mom's spirit comforting her and I know now that there is a place called heaven because my mom is surely there.

Barbara -- This is a great story which I find really common behavior, it would seem. Grandma's and Grandpa's seldom can stand to see their grandkids hurtin' and show up at the most needed times. Thanks for the tale and for reservin' a GhosTee! I'll let you know via e-mail when we go to our next Tee printing early February.

 

Who's There?
by Samantha Schultea
Hailing From: Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Where It Happened: Garden District Animal Hospital

It was a typical work day at the Animal Hospital. People were dropping off their animals to stay overnight, to be treated, or just to get a bath. Alice (my mom) was working in the back part of the building. Now, when you open the front door, it makes a beeping sound. A woman named Cathy was working with Alice at the time, and she usually locked the front door when she went outside to walk the dogs that were kept in the kennels in the back.

While still in the back of the building, Alice heard the opening of the door and thought, "Oh, man, Cathy didn't lock the door!" This usually meant she had to stop what she was doing to help a client. As she passed the front corridor, she spotted a tall man striding quickly towards the front of the building. She said, "May I help you, sir?" -- and at the same moment noticed that he appeared to turn his head as he continued to walk. She decided to follow him and approached the front door. But as she came nearer to the man, he disappeared.

Cathy came in the door UN-locking as she entered. Alice was flabber-gasted and asked Cathy if she locked the door. Cathy replied with, "Well, yeah . . . "and then Alice proceeded to tell Cathy what had just happened.

Cathy was "spooked," but became even more frightened when Leah, Alice's daughter, heard this story and said, "I've seen him too . . . lots of times!"

Alice was stunned! "Really?"

Leah said, "While bathing the dogs, I can see him out of the corner of my eye standing in the doorway. He's wearing a light green shirt and dark pants and is rather tall."

This really spooked the rest of us out when she told us this.

Wow! Neat story and thanks Samantha for sending it to Ghostories. From the sound of it, I'm guessing that this elusive man hasn't really gone away just yet? Have there been more sightings? Keep us informed if you see him again. I imagine we could say that his type are a "vanishing breed!" Naw, probably just "doggin' people around." Ya think? Hey, don't mind me (just my warped sense of humor), just let us know if you "Spot" him again, ok? Thanks -- now I have to "paws" to upload this as the 50th Ghostory!!! Yessss!!

 

Trains, Taps and Bannisters
by Dee
E-mail: dee.woo23@netchannel.net
Hailing From: Augusta, GA

When I was three or so, my parents lived in an apartment in the Bronx. On this one particular night, my parents decided to go out and left their friend Jimmy to watch me for the evening. Well, I ended up in my crib (Yes, I can remember that far back!) and Jimmy was asleep on my parent's bed. I called out to my mother and woke Jimmy up. He told me that she wasn't there and that they would be back soon. I pestered him until he finally just ignored my calls. Getting mad, I climbed out of the crib, walked out of the bedroom door, closed it, and then sat in the middle of the foyer, waiting for them. They would return soon. As I sat there, I started looking around and noticed a white dot on the bedroom door.

As I continued to watch, it grew larger and larger until it became recognizable. I was watching an old fashioned locomotive barreling my way! Just as it was close enough to touch, I heard keys going into the front door lock. I looked towards the sound, then turned back to look at the train. It was gone!

My parents entered, questioning me as to why I was sitting in the middle of the hallway. I remember telling my mom about the choo-choo, but she only dismissed it. It wasn't until a few years later that I asked her if she remembered me telling her about it. She did and finally believed me.

This was not the last encounter with any ghostly presences, it was just the beginning. Two years later, my parents decided to move into the suburbs, but had to decide between two houses. So, since I was part of the family, they felt that I would be the deciding factor.

"Which house do we move into?" They asked. "The big house in Mount Vernon (which gave me the chills the second we walked into it) or the smaller one in New Rochelle?"

My choice: the smaller of the two.

Moving in day: We only had our living room furniture since the moving company wouldn't deliver the rest of our stuff until the morning. This was fine with me, considering that I would be sleeping on the loveseat (the perfect sized bed for a five-year-old). Well, my parents were watching "Gone with the Wind" that night and allowed me to stay up until I could no longer stay awake. So, I walked over to the loveseat (not 15 feet away from where my parents were seated) and knelt down to say my evening prayers. Halfway into it, I felt someone tapping my shoulder, and thinking it my Dad, I turned with a smile to find no one there!! I never moved so fast in my life before. I jumped onto the loveseat, covering myself completely. Why hadn't my parents seen what had happened? Maybe they simply thought I was playing. Who knows? But that little house had more in store for me . . .

Being tapped on the shoulder was not the only experience I had in our house. There were many times that I heard the stairs creak at night, as though someone was walking up them. In fact, my room was the closest to the stairs and more often than not, I would get the feeling that someone was standing just outside my door, watching me intently. Each time, I would silently beg what or whoever is was to go away. It would take some time, but eventually the feeling would go, leaving me shaky.

For the rest of my life, I will remember this one night in particular. It was 1980, and I was nine years old. My mother had gone out to walk the dog around eight or so. After some time, I got the feeling that she was taking too long. So, I decided to go out and check on her. As I walked towards the front door, I put my hand on the end of the banister by the stairs. Suddenly, I couldn't move. My head started to feel cold and tingly, and my vision started to fade. When all I could see was black, a scene opened up in front of me. I saw a beautiful blonde, dressed in a blue sequined dress. Next to her, a short, fat, bald man that I could only describe as Uncle Fester from the Addams Family series. He was wearing nothing but boxers, or something close to it. The woman grabbed the man's arm and directed him towards an Iron Maiden. Back then, I didn't know what an Iron Maiden was. I could only describe it as a coffin that stood up with nails in it. She put him in it and slowly closed the door. As the "vision" faded, I could hear the man screaming bloody murder, while the woman in blue laughed hysterically. As soon as I could see again, I freaked out, running for the front door and my mother outside. I don't remember what I told her, but she saw how shaken up I was.

The subject was never brought up again and we soon moved out of our house (just a move, no other reason behind it.) Anyway, a few years ago (about 1992 or so), I was taking a shower and that cold, tingly feeling came over me. My vision began to fade, but I fought tooth and nail to not let it take control. I refused to see something like what I had seen before every happen again. Who knows what it could have been?

Dee! Wonderful collage of glimpses into the nether side . . . and we thank you for it. Sorry it took so long to get here but I've had a rush of Web Page orders to fill and have been swamped. But I plan on making sure that all new stories get posted at least within 10 days of submittal, so thanks for waiting and being patient. I love this site and there is only one thing that I love more, my net Ghostory Tee Shirts! I plan on having them printed in about 3 weeks and hope that we get (only) 10 more orders to get us to press time -- if you know of anyone who wants to own their own personal O'Neill's Ghostories Tee Shirt, let me know, ok? Thanks! And a really big hug for sending in a great set o' tales! ... :^)

 

 

Monday's Child is Fair of Face . . .
by Allison Turner
E-mail: bturner@wna-linknet.com
Hailing From: Jacksonville, NC
Where it Happened: My Aunt's old country house

My aunt used to live in this old house out in the country. Every Monday I would go to her house to spend the night.

One night my aunt was on the phone and I was running back and forth between the stairs and the kitchen. When I got to the stairs I stopped and looked up. Coming down the stairs was a little girl holding a picnic basket. I just stood there and looked for a few seconds, then ran to get my aunt. I grabbed her arm and brought her to the stairs, but the little girl was gone. My aunt just thought it was my imagination . . . until a year later.

My aunt was sitting in the living room cross stitching when she saw a little girl standing behind her chair. She thought it was me and she kept saying, "Allison come here." The little girl just stood there and my aunt got angry. She turned around but the girl wasn't there. She went into the kitchen where I was doing the dishes with my cousin Brian. She asked me if I was in the living room a few minutes ago and I said I wasn't. She went back to the living room but didn't see the little girl again.

Now I know why this library is apropriately named, "The Haunted Library" Great story and it sets me to wondering about the homes previous owners -- can you tell us anything about that? And I wonder if there just could have been a Tuesday's child, a Wednesday's child . . .
Most of all, thanks for sending it in.

 

 

Zero to the Bone
by Scott Heaton
E-mail: peachy@itsnet.com
Hailing From: Orem, Utah
Where it Happened: New Rental Home

Our eyes bugged out as we strolled into the livingroom of the two-story rental house. I gaped at my wife, and she grinned back. We'd hit the jackpot! The place was downright palatial, complete with shag rug throughout, mirrored walls, and enough room to quarter an entire NFL football team. And the astonishing thing was, the rent was low. I mean, too low for this kind of castle - but who was complaining? We signed the papers and moved our little family in before the ink dried.

And for about a year, we couldn't have been happier. That is, until something unearthly blew in from the dark and moved in with us. And then all hell broke loose. Literally.

Eleven months into our stay, we started hearing popping sounds throughout the house, like knuckles cracking. At first, we shrugged off the strange noises to the normal aches and groans of such a capacious dwelling. But after a while, we could set our watches to the nightly raps and taps ricocheting off the walls. Joyce and I would tuck the kids in bed for the night, when some ghostly hand wacked the woodwork on que. Sometimes the brittle reports imitated BB's striking the walls. And other times, it sounded like boney fingers thumping various locales throughout the house. We valiantly tried to ignore the nightly din. But the icy feeling corkscrewing down our spines wasn't easy to dismiss.

One ghastly night, just as my wife and I were about to fall asleep, something hefty lumbered two steps up our staircase and paused. Whoever it was must have been a real porker, because each step moaned and cracked under his feet. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then the intruder trudged up the rest of the stairs, plodded down the hallway, and froze right outside our door.

My heart stopped.

I catapulted out of bed, fumbled for my nightstick, and dove for the door. The first skull I saw was going to get clobbered.

But nobody was there. Only pitch-dark emptiness. Minutes later, after I picked my heart off the carpet and stuffed it back down my throat, I poked around the house trying to ferret out our nocturnal guest, but it was all in vain. Whoever it was had made a clean getaway. And I was left in a cold sweat.

Two nights later, just as I was nodding off after a hard day's work, a pane of glass shattered in the kitchen. Electrified, I careened downstairs to do battle with the prowler. My blood was up, and this time I wasn't going to let the intruder get out alive. But once again, nobody was there. I flipped on the kitchen light and starred at the floor. My face turned corpse white. Our knife rack had been swatted clean off the wall, which was really strange considering nothing short of an atomic blast could have dislodged the holder. But what really got my attention were three butcher knives carefully arranged on the linoleum floor in the form of a "V," with each point aimed straight at me! It took a few minutes to reel my jaw off the floor.

After that, weird things became normal fair around the house. Our bathroom door would shut on its own, leaving my kids or wife in the darkness. Our clock radio turned itself on, blaring heavy-metal music (which we detested). My desk chair would swirl around by itself. The snaps and wall-raps increased in frequency. Our fire alarm screamed at all hours of the night without reason. And those terrifying footsteps continued on a nightly basis.

We tried in vain to rid ourselves of our unwanted guest, but nothing worked. We wore holes in the carpet praying for deliverance, but the ghostly presence only got more determined.

One black night, the kitchen window exploded again, and I hurtled down the stairs, ready to drop the first shadow that lunged at me from the dark. But once again, I was all alone. I scanned the floor for broken glass, but as I'd guessed, there wasn't any. Everything was intact. As I turned toward the stairs, I thought I heard something behind me. Snakes slithered in my stomach as I squinted into the pitch-blackness. I gripped the banister with white knuckles: Something dark and hellish was approaching me.

Electricity snapped down my spine, causing my hairs to bristle in unison. As blackness encircled me and alarm bells clanged in my brain, I let out a yelp and turned for the stairs.

Just as I brought my right foot up and placed it on the bottom step, a bloodcurdling laugh erupted behind me. It was high-pitched and hideous, like Satan himself was pealing in my ear. I froze to ice, zero to the bone.

Freeze that image for a second. I'd know fear before, but nothing like this. Think of a freight train hurtling at you in the dead of night, lights and horns blaring, and you can't jump off the tracks. You're going to get creamed, you know it, and there's nothing you can do about it. That's terror. And that's what I was feeling at that instant, except I wasn't facing a mad train. I was standing in the presence of pure evil, and I knew if I didn't move quick, I could kiss my keister "goodbye."

But my legs were cakes of ice, my arms were riveted in place, and my throat was cinched shut. I was scarred right down to my tail bone, convinced I was about to be swallowed up in the jaws of hell.

I don't know what did it, but all at once a grenade detonated under my feet, and I catapulted the stairs in three leaps. I nearly scarred Joyce into apoplexy as I dodged straight for her in the darkness. I shook uncontrollably and couldn't squeak out a sound. Her eyes bulged out in terror as she watched me drop on the bed like a dead man. Then her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she turned toward the door. I swivelled around at the same time and nearly swallowed my tongue. The bedroom door flung open and smacked the wall. The evil spirit had followed me up the stairs!

Joyce screamed bloody murder, and I screamed too. I'm surprised that every glass in the house didn't burst. But the demon refused to leave.

I don't mind saying so, but we ducked our heads under the covers for dear life and didn't come up for air until the next morning. By that time the evil visitor had left.

Needless to say, we didn't stick around for more terror. Two weeks later we moved out.

Good Golly Molly! Great Scott! Knives on the kitchen floor? Banging on the walls!?! I'm sure your landlord left a little something out, don't you? (Sounds like the ghost of Popeil!)

Wowsers, guys. Nothing worse than a pesky ghost, but a lumbering ghost? Whoa. I want to wish Scott and his family a great big thank you for sending in your story. Whew! This is a good one, Scott! I'm glad you and everyone are a-ok.

His and Hers Ghost
by Lori T.
E-mail: llat@webtv.net
Hailing From: Midland, Texas
Where it Happened: Midland, Texas

I first encountered my ghost in the Summer of 1979 when my family moved to West Texas. It stayed in the house with my family all my high school and college years. After selling the house in the middle 1980's, I noticed little tell-tale signs that the ghost had followed me to my new adult life.

My new husband was in the shower so that we could get ready and go to the evening Church service. I had made it a habit to play with his feet at the bottom of the shower curtain while he was showering, just to be fun. This evening I was engrossed with a TV special and stayed on the bed to wait. He finished his shower, dried off and made a comment laughingly about why must I always pester him while he was in the shower. I told him I did not know what he was talking about and told him of the special TV program I had been watching. He emphatically replied that I had poked him on his hip through the shower curtain. I again replied no - since I could never keep a straight face if I had played a joke on him, his face turned pale. He then told me what had happended.

He was showering and felt a finger poke him on the right hip. He, thinking it was me, poked back at the finger and met it fingertip to fingertip. He said he felt strong resistance and they played kind of a pushing game! He said it was definitely not a draft blowing the curtain. I then smiled and replied, "See, I told you I had a ghost!"

This is not the only time the ghost pestered my husband.

Another time that actually brought tears to my eyes was when he had come home after his daily workout, undressed in his closet, taking off his rings and placed them on the shelf in his closet. We were going out to eat with friends that night so he took his shower, dressed and started looking for his rings. Time was ticking by so I told him we would look for them when we returned home.

We came back home and he immediately started looking for his rings (wedding and college class ring) again. He again thought that I had hid them from him as a joke but saw my straight, non-poker face and knew I was telling the truth. He ended the search and we headed for bed since it was getting late and tomorrow was a work day.

Next morning, he searched a little more with the same results. I came home first after work and helped a little more but to no avail. Finally, he returned home after his evening workout, opened the guest bedroom door and shouted that he had found the rings, chuckling. I came in the room and he pointed to one of his deer heads and there were the rings placed on one of the antlers tines.

Great story Lori! Thanks for sending it in -- We really appreciate it. And, oh, by the way, tell your husband that it appears his rings have been appraised by a ghost! A ghost who places them at least "Over a Buck!"

 

Phantom Father
by Mike Houghton
E-mail: ColeTrickle51@yahoo.com
Hailing From: Michigan
Where it Happened: Parents House

The house I lived in as a kid was one of the oldest homes in my hometown. It had been the home of a pastor back in the 20's when the town was small, and a local church had been located next door. Although my parents never spoke of anything weird going on in the house, my brother's and I have spoken of things a few times, and I've listed them here.

My oldest brother hasn't stated anything specifically, but has spoken about lights being turned on by no one, and sounds being heard from parts of the house that no one is located in. It seems as if my second oldest brother, and I have had more experiences than him.

My brother has spoken of a time when he and some friends were downstairs in our living room late one night. They were just talking when the subject turned to the house, and how old it was. My brother told his friends that he thought the house was possibly haunted, and one of his buddies laughed it off. He began to "taunt" the supposed ghost; saying that there were no such things, that ghost stories were all a bunch of B.S, things along those lines. Suddenly in the middle of has ranting, the stairway door slammed open, then shut. Porcelain cups hanging in the dining room rattled together as if someone was brushing past them. Then the side door in our kitchen burst open, doing some damage to the hinges. The door promptly shut. Needless to say that shut the big mouth up.

My brother also claims to seeing a man dressed all in black in our backyard, just standing in the garden. He figures it's the priest in his garb.

Before I moved out, I stayed in the house quite a few times alone, and began to experience things quite often. My old bedroom used to be directly at the head of the stairway. One night I was awoken to the hallway light shining under my door. I got up, and turned it off, and went back to sleep. I woke up within an hour to the same light shining through. I got up, and angrily shut the light off. When I did, I muttered something along the lines of dealing with whoever kept turning the lights on. I laid back down, and about 15 minutes later, the light was on again. As I began to get out of bed, I noticed two foot shadows coming under my door. They didn't move but just stood there. I began to get up when I realized no one was home but me. I jumped back in bed, grabbed my bible, and buried myself under the covers. I finally fell back to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, the light was off, and I was still alone.

There was also always the usual occurences like objects falling in other rooms. Things that were secured to walls would fall for no reason, things like that. Even though, I've moved out, everytime I'm home, I always get the feeling that there's more to that house than meets the eye. I've never felt it was evil, or harmful; but it was always pretty damn scary!!!

Thanks for the cool story Mike -- we appreciate it muchly! And about it being scary, I'd say on a scale of one to ten, "Pretty Damn Scary" has got to be the scariest -- although when I was posting it I couldn't shake the image of the guy who played George of the Jungle trying on the Armani suits turning to the camera and saying something pretty close to that same line! I have no earthly idea why....geeeesh, there it goes again!

Well, anyway, thanks a bunch and stop back again anytime. You're always welcome here at Ghostories [:-)

Principal's Office
by Keri
E-mail: keri@clamhead.com
Hailing From: Corona, California
Where it Happened: An Elementary School in Redlands

From what I understand, there's an elementary school in Redlands that is supposedly haunted by the ghost of a little boy. The story is this: A little boy was playing on the swings, fell off and suffered a major head injury. He was rushed to the principal's office, and died therein.

As legend has it, ghost hunters flock to the elementary school after hours (as my sister did one Halloween night during her high school years) and knock on the door of the principal's office. If you keep knocking, eventually, the ghost of the little boy will knock back. If you persist in knocking, a sad little voice says, "Leave me alone . . . "

My sister and a group of friends went there on Halloween night as I said. They knocked and knocked with no response. Bored, they turned to leave. As they turned, a soft knock came from the other side of the door. They knocked again, and received a louder response. I'm not sure if they kept knocking or if they heard a voice (again, I'll check with my sister). When I expressed disbelief, in her story she just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Fine. I know what I heard." Oh, also, the swing the little boy had fallen from has been said to swing on its own accord occasionally.

Keri, that's so very cool! (Couldn't resist that one!) Thanks very much. Even though it is a second hand story, I know that many Ghost Hunters really like to check them out -- er, must be the principal of the thing, or something I guess . . . hmm m m m . . . Anyways, it is a neat story and so I included it in our Haunted Library, which is just about out of room. I'll need to start setting up the next library, "Panicky", for next week. Any suggestions what selection I should pick for background music anyone?

 

 

---

Haven't had enough, YET?!
Well then, you're in luck. We've just opened up our newest Ghostly Library, it's called
"Panicky"
one we're going to grow quite fond of. In this new library, unlike the others, there are some interesting things in store! Don't miss it, and Don't Be Late! Oh, and please bookmark us and be sure to keep us a secret! (ah-huh!) You'll be sure to catch a chill!!!

 

One time we we're sitting outside the big hotel. It was late and our shift was about to finish for the night. Man, I knew we we're all beat, but I swear, that's when we heard it -- and that's when we all were certain it was
Haunted

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