look now, but do you remember Eddie?
He's up there! Hanging from the . . .
Oh look! Eddie's waving back at us!
One Last Reminder
Hailing From: Ponchatoula, Louisiana
Where it Happened: Brusly High School
I am writing this story to you not as the person who had the encounter, but as the only one willing to tell it.
My sophomore year in Brusly High School was not exactly an interesting one -- well, that is, until we met a certain sergeant. I really don't remember his name, but I will call him Officer "P." Earlier in the year, he came to our school to lecture us about drinking and driving. One thing he told us was, and I quote, "Within the next year, one person in this room will die."
The next year, he died of cancer.
That was a shock in itself. School let out for the summer months later, and the janitors were cleaning out the horrific lockers. One of the janitors, we call her Miss Betty, was in the girl's locker room when she heard a loud voice coming from the gym. I suppose she thought that maybe it was others from the janitorial staff goofing off because it was booming over the loud speakers in the gym.
But when she opened the door to the gym, the voice stopped, and no one was there.
She walked to where the bleachers started and looked all around the gym floor -- but there was nothing. Then suddenly, coming through the loud speakers again, a loud booming voice rang out . . . ,
"Within the next year!"
Miss Betty screamed, covered her ears, and ran out of the door. When school started again, the story got all around, although nothing ever happened again.
I suppose Officer "P" just wanted to give a reminder of his warning.
Only a few times in my life have I ever received a warning from a local constabulary (most of the time they just started writing the ticket!), but I suppose if I received this kind of warning, I would have to really take it seriously. I mean, I always take things that policemen tell me seriously, and shoot, at least they were alive and breathing when they gave me the warning. But, to come back and bark that reminder from the wild and woolly corridors of the afterlife to Miss Betty makes me wonder if maybe she was the target of that particular reminder.
Now, not to be disrespectful, but did any of you ever wonder if Miss Betty was prone to a nip of gin every once in a while before taking a drive. I mean, did officer "P" have her in his focus when he came back to issue his last and chilling warning that resounded from the rafters? Hmmmm...I suppose we can only speculate.
For sure, thanks for the story. I liked it and am happy to post it here at Ghostories. Now, where did I put that glass of Cabernet?
Black Jack Ketchum
by Gilbert Hervatin
Hailing From: Brooklyn, New York
Where it Happened: Philmont, New Mexico
When I was fourteen years old, I was a boy scout and attended Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico. It was two weeks of high wilderness backpacking through mountains, deserts and forests. Along the way, we came across various historic areas from the old west, i.e. an abandoned gold mine, deserted ghost town and an outlaw hideout. One of the famous outlaws that had his hideout on this 35,000 acre ranch was named Black Jack Ketchum -- and one of the highlights of the trip was locating Black Jack's mountain hideaway, where he was eventually captured by federal marshals.
When we arrived at the hide out, it was somewhat of a let down -- it was more of a rock overhang with some initials carved on the stone face. But we felt that it would be fun to spend the night there. Unfortunately, our adult leader told us that we had to camp at the nearby designated camp. Disappointed, several of us set up our tents several hundred feet away from the leader's tent with the hope of stealing away later that night with our sleeping bags so we could actually sleep in old Black Jack's hide out.
Around 11:00 p.m. the rest of the camp was fast asleep, so John, Mike, Marty, Andy and myself quietly stole into the night and on to Black Jack's place. We set up camp under the rock overhang and quickly built a fire. We talked about the trip so far, but soon fatigue set in as we had covered about 20 miles that day. The fire had burned down to bright red coals, enough to fill the rock over hang with the kind of light that you'd see from an exit sign in a movie theater. Content, I drifted off thinking of Black Jack, when I heard something in the bushes. I looked up suddenly only to find myself paralyzed. It was as though something was holding me down. I tried to call out to the others, but they were fast asleep and my throat was all knotted up.
Then I saw a man in black, dressed like a cowboy come running out of the bushes toward the hide out. He wasn't like something you'd expect to see in a movie -- he was filthy dirty, more of like what a homeless man looks like, but his clothes were definitely from the period of the late 1800's. He was all red in the face and I remember he had a black ratty cowboy hat, terrible yellow teeth, lots of facial hair glistening with sweat and he held a revolver. I definitely saw the gun. He seemed solid, but parts of him seemed translucent. I had to actually work to stay focused on him, like he was moving away from me and toward me at the same time.
I still couldn't move, but it was obvious that he was not aware of me or my camp mates. I was frightened by the man, but I was more frightened of the paralysis and inability to speak. I then heard (accompanied by a strange fog that emanated from the tree line across a tiny stream) horses, men yelling unintelligently, and then muffled gun fire. The man in front of me fired his revolver six times at the trees, ran back and stood right over me, still unaware of my presence. He was wounded in the shoulder and discharged six shell casings from his revolver right on top of me! They all disappeared into nothingness as they fell onto my sleeping bag. After reloading, he fired a few more times and then he suddenly saw me! That's when I became terrified.
I felt as though my heart was in my throat. I tried to scream, but I couldn't breath. He looked confused and confounded because to him, I think I must have suddenly appeared before his eyes. That was the kind of expression he had on his face. Out of reflex, he aimed right at my head. That is when I really thought I was going to die. It was more than real. I had a surge of adrenaline and thought I was going to explode because of the combination of blood pounding in my body and paralysis holding it all back.
Then in an instant, he uncocked his pistol, looked at me real close (I could smell his bad breath reeking of tobacco) and he said, "You're not supposed to be here," and then he just disappeared -- just like smoke into clean air. But the smoke didn't float away. It just faded into it self (hard to explain). By then, the sounds and mist had all disappeared completely.
All of a sudden I could move and I jumped out of the sleeping bag completely covered in sweat. I looked around and ran down to the stream where the man and sounds had come from. It took me about thirty seconds to regain my senses and began to feel my vocal cords loosening. I splashed some water from the stream on my face and tried to make sure that I was awake. I stuck my head under the water to calm down. I pulled my head out, and all was quiet. I couldn't even hear the crickets or night owls -- that was real strange. There were always noises at night there.
Gradually, the normal night sounds returned and after a few minutes, I caught my breath and my heart rate returned to almost normal. I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to wake up my friends, but they were all asleep and I knew they would have killed me if I would have awakened them with my "story." After all, I couldn't really tell if it was a dream or if it was real. I figured it had to be a nightmare right? After all, I'm a rational guy. It had to be. I took a big drink from the cold clean stream and made my way back to my bag and eventually shrugged it off to an over active imagination and the bad freeze-dried trail meal we had earlier in the evening. After about an hour I finally fell into a deep sleep.
Very early the next morning, Andy and the others had to shake me repeatedly to wake me up. We had to clear camp quickly and make it back to our tents at the designated camp before our adult leader found out about our previous night's excursion. As we broke camp and put out the fire, I told my friends about my "dream." As I expected, they thought it was amusing. Then as I rolled up my sleeping bag, I noticed a few shiny objects in the dirt. Looking through the dust under my bed from the night before, I found six shell casings!
When we returned to base camp, we traveled into Cimmaron to go to an old saloon that is now a museum. They had a photograph of the real Black Jack Ketchum. You guessed it, it was him -- a dead ringer. I never told anyone. My friends thought I set it all up and brushed me off, but I kept the casings and checked with a friend's father who was a gun expert when I came back from the trip -- and all the casings were dated from around 1878, but they were in almost brand new condition. You could still smell gun powder in them.
My friends father even told me that the gun powder mixture was one that was used in the last century, but not today. I kept those casings for years, but unfortunately after I moved from home my Mother threw them out along with some great valuable comic books and baseball cards.
Fascinating tale, Gilbert. I suppose most folks would think it was a dream, or a nightmare. I guess there was enough going on that day to seep into a dream. But what if it wasn't, eh? What if ye olde time continuum decided to play a few tricks on Mother Nature and placed you two squarely through the looking glass together for one single moment in time. What if?
And if he had pulled the trigger, I wonder what the papers would have said the next day? "Boy Gets Blast From the Past!"
I love stories like this, but now I have to run. All of a sudden I have this tremendous urge for a can of chili, a shot of Old Bufus and a few hands at the Faroh Table.
By the way, why do they call it "chili" when it's so dang hot?
We're Not Leaving
by Sarah Bir
Hailing From: Toronto, Ontario
Where it Happened: My House
I live in a pretty old house and really weird things happen all the time. I know that it's haunted because of certain specific things that happen. My parents moved into this house five years before I was born, when my sister was five. During the first three weeks after they moved in, they noticed real clear signs that they weren't welcome in the house.
First, the brand new recently purchased fridge was somehow completely destroyed. I don't exactly know what happened (it was 17 years ago), but within two days of living there it was ruined beyond repair.
Second, lightning hit the house twice in one night. This may sound impossible but it happened. The first time it hit, it vaporized the chimney, (I mean it was actually a pile of dust). The second time it took zapped out the electricity. The next day my sister stepped on a bar-b-q skewer and it went right through her foot.
Since my parents are very superstitious, they performed a ritual to clear the house of evil. But my mother who (you don't have to believe me if you don't want to) is psychic, could still feel that there were still spirits in the house and they wanted no one to live there. So they did some other ritual and told the spirits that they had better smarten up or they (my parents) would never leave the house (hence we've been living here for 17 years).
The ghosts stopped doing the things that would harm people, but they didn't stop every thing.
When I was little I could see them. Every night they would come and stand around my bed and terrify me. One of the ghosts was a women wearing an old fashioned red dress, another an old man with gold rimmed glasses and a pipe -- and then there was a monster-reptile type creature that I still sometimes see.
When I got older, I stopped seeing the woman and the man-ghost, but I still see that creature all the time and it still scares me. I think the last really bad thing they did was when I was about six, I couldn't sleep and I was just looking at the ceiling when I hear them start to walk around downstairs. This didn't surprise me because I could always hear them down there -- but then I heard the women laughing (this was a new to me) and then I heard them coming up stairs (also new). When they reached the top of the stairs, they went to the bathroom and I heard a loud thump against the bathtub -- then they went back down the stairs. I didn't really know what to think of it, but then I heard the cutlery drawer open and slam shut, followed by a loud and horrible noise.
When my parents heard the noise they ran down stairs to see what happened. The first thing they found was a jug of Drano at the bottom of the stairs (we had an ongoing pipe clog problem) and in the kitchen all the dishes had been smashed to bits (literally) -- and every fork, knife, and spoon had been bent in half. We guessed that they were trying to tell us that they really didn't want us there, but since nothing major really happened for a long time after that, they were willing to live with the fact that we weren't leaving.
At my 12th birthday party I had about 11 people stay for the night. I had left the room for a minute to get a bottle of pop and when I came back they were all mad at me. When I asked why, they said that they heard a man's voice saying that they didn't want any of my immature and dense friends staying there -- they heard him say that they should get out -- and they also heard a girl"s (woman's) voice agreeing with him. They all just assumed that it was me and my dad. Later, after I explained that it wasn't me, we were all sitting in our sleeping bags talking about how cool it would be if we all lived together seeing as we were all good friends and then some one said that they should move into my house . . . all of the sudden all the lights went out. I thought that it was another electrical surge but it wasn't, all the light switches were (flipped) down. When we turned on the lights, we saw that all the sleeping bags had been rolled up and put into a pile -- and all their stuff had been put into their suitcases -- but none of their stuff was in any of the right suitcases, of course, but it was packed up none the less. I didn't know what to tell them.
Thanks for the story Sarah. Sounds like the house you grew up in really made life interesting. I just wonder why the ghosts included a reptile. If you ever have the time, see if you can dig up any information about the house. You never know what you might find.
But, this one stumps me. Do ya think there might have been a lagoon nearby? Yikes!
Hailing From: Asheboro, NC
Where it Happened: Asheboro, NC
I am not much of a writer, but one event does stand out in my memory. I am a paramedic and have worked in the field for the last 8 1/2 years. I have seen a lot of people die and have tried to save them in vain. Plenty of times we have arrived too late to help someone. People generally wait much to long to call EMS. You would think with the field I am in we would see a lot of strange things. I am a believer in ghosts, however this is the closest thing to proof, I have ever seen.
It was approximately 3:00 a.m. when the call came in. For some odd reason both units pagers activated at the same time. Everyone was up and confused as to why two ambulances and the supervisor all received pages for a cardiac call.
Then, from inside the lobby of the ambulance base, one of the other medics turned and looked out the window. It was very foggy outside and difficult to see. Then she said, "Oh my god! What is that?!" We all looked and it seemed to be a person floating in the air. The apparition, for nothing else to call it, seemed to motion for us to come. We rapidly moved to the door and opened it, and it was gone.
It was up to the supervisor to determine which unit was to respond, and he decided that it would be the other unit, not mine. I listened to the call and learned that the patient died enroute to the hospital. The paramedic who originally saw the apparition gave a valiant effort to help the patient, but was unsuccessful.
Later on, we talked about the call. When I mentioned the apparition and that the patient that she was called to immediately afterward had died, we were left wondering if it was a call from the person or if it quite possibly it could have come from their guardian angel.
We attempted several times to re-create, with lights, the appearance of an image of a floating person. We determined that for us to see the apparition, it had to be floating around 10 to 12 feet off the ground. We never succeeded in re-creating anything near to the appearance of what we witnessed.
This incident was witnessed by five persons in the lobby of the ambulance base. Make your own determination.
To me, one of the seven wonders of the universe are the radical changes in visibility caused by mere atmospheric conditions (I think we need Bill Nye about now). I clearly remember living in an apartment in Pomona, California, which was exactly one mile from the base of a 7500 foot high mountain -- and one day there came a hard rapping on my door. When I opened it there was this excited oriental couple (who had just come to the USA). They were waving their arms around, practically led me to my own balcony and started pointing in the air, toward the mountain -- and they asked me how long "it" had been there! It took me a minute or two to figure it out, but you see, with the poor air quality we had back in the 70's, you couldn't even see this gigantic land formation until the beginning of winter, and then it just seemed as if someone with one helluvan earth mover had put it there -- just to shock the newcomers.
Now fog is probably one of the trickiest elements to deal with, and then again so are spirits and apparitions. Put the two together and I think we have a special mixture that will have us all wondering for a very long time. Thanks for sending it in, I appreciate it.
Oh, and my guess is that you were witness to an angel of peace -- quite possibly one who came to take the patient "home."
I'd like to take a moment and ask one favor -- since you're in the EMS business,could you visit a fireman's web page for me? They make a special incidence response kit designed especially to deal with accident and disaster victims, and I'd love to get your opinion, see what you think of it. Their site is located at: http://www.disastermngt.com -- and if you decide to contact them (my fireman friend's name is Chris), be sure to let him know you found their site at Ghostories!
Thanks again -- you guys really have a tough, and I would imagine oftimes heartbreaking, job. Most EMS people I have met have been real people-people, sensitive, caring and totally unselfish. To have to see so many people pass onward is not an easy task -- my hat is off to you and your coworkers. Stay safe and keep up the good work.
I was wondering if we have any pinball fanatics out there who own their own machines. I just recently acquired a 1972 vintage William's called "Swinger" and wondered if anyone is familiar with that machine. If there are, Email me at email@example.com
by Katie Kuhl
Hailing From: Lambertville, NJ
Where it Happened: My house
Three years ago, I was sitting in my dining room with my good friend, Abby. The dining room of my house is fairly large, and it adjoins a large, rather empty room that at one point was a living room -- but we never used it for anything much. We were sitting at the dining room table, and working on our homework. It was a Friday night, and we intended to go out as soon as any work we had was done. Casually glancing up at the grandfather clock next to our windows, I notice it was 7:59. Paying no attention to the time, I looked back down at my work, and began to figure out a math problem. Placing my pencil to paper, a giant crack of thunder sounded, and made my flinch, dropping my pencil. I sat up straight, and looking out the window, I witnessed the beginnings of a horrible storm.
I began to wonder where my mother was, but I knew she'd be home soon enough. Looking back down, I noticed my hand was still poised as if it were holding a pencil. However, the one I had been using previously was nowhere in sight. I checked under the table and around the rest of the room, but it was gone.
Looking back up again, a large crack of lightening filled the room with a bright light, and then the power went out.
Scared to death my friend and I began talking frantically, and stopped suddenly. We both had the feeling someone, or something, else was in the room, but we weren't sure what it was. Then the two lights in the room starting flickering on and off, on and off. One would go on, and the other would go off.
These were the only lights in the house that appeared to be working, but that wasn't what I was thinking of -- I was wondering what was causing them to go on and off.
I could see the light switches that controlled them moving, as could Abby, but nothing was moving them. At least not anything that we could see.
Two minutes later, we heard a huge popping sound, and noticed that every single light in the house had turned on, at the same time. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the stereo in our dining room turn on. About three seconds later an incredibly loud burst of sound filled the room, and then it was silent. Then there was another loud burst, and more silence.
Abby looked over, and in a very hushed voice informed me that "the volume control (on the stereo)" was "spinning in circles. . . "
. . . and that "the stereo" was "unplugged."
We were both on the verge on tears when my mother walked into the house. As she checked the mail in the front of the house, we heard her gasp, and then she walked over to see how we were.
Taking a seat at the table, she began to tell us that it was the 25th anniversary of the Lambertville Gas Explosion. And that the one boy who had died in it had his funeral in our living room. That was all the explanation we needed. We didn't pry further, we just changed the subject.
Thanks for the story, Katie. I really appreciate it and apologize for how long it took to get here. Believe it or not, I'm still digging my way out of the flood of stories that rushed in during Halloween -- and slowly but surely I'll manage to get everyone's stories posted. I do have some great stories in the hopper and this was one of them. Thanks again (and it was well written too!).
Since this was the Silver Anniversary of the "Explosion," I wonder what is in store for the Golden Anniversary. This particular haunting seems to have its own trademark -- it is like a force-field haunting -- as if the energy released a quarter of a century ago had been stored back up over those long years. Like a silent afterlife capacitor -- slowly, but deliberately recharging -- just waiting for that moment for the clock to strike eight.
Yikes, I have goosebumps!
Her Worst Fear
by Saoirse R. McGrath
Hailing From: Belfast, Ireland
Where it Happened: Belfast, Ireland
My mum and my great-aunt Annie were always very close. She would go over to my great aunt's house and fix her hair or make a special meal, just to give her company. When my great aunt's husband died she took it very badly -- so every other day my mum would go over to her house to comfort her, and her visits became more frequent.
One day my mum went to my great aunt's house and was told that Annie would have to move to a retirement home as she was getting sick and was going to need 24 hour care -- care that none of her sons could give. After spending so much time with Annie and caring for her, my Mum had learned what Annies' deepest fears were: To spend her last living years in a retirment home and worst of all to die in one.
Now, considering Annies' condition, it seemed like the womans worst fears were going to come true. Not long after moving into the retirement home, Annie past away leaving my mum crying day and night -- not just because she was gone, but because my mum wanted to let her live in our house so she wouldn’t have that terrible end. The only reson why she didn’t come to live with us was there was no where for her to sleep.
One morning, while my sister was lying on the bed compleatly relaxed, almost in meditation, Annie appeared in her mind. Annie said to her, wagging her finger, “Tell your mother not to worry, she was good to me and I’m free and happy now.”
Then , Annie disapeared leaving my sister bewildered.
Once my mum heard about what had happened she didn’t cry when she thought of her dear Aunt Annie, instead she remembered all the great times they had.
Thank you very much for sending in your story, all the way from Ireland, Saoirse. I must admit, I have a weak spot in my heart for such stories because this sounds like something one of my dear departed relatives would do. I hope you stay around and become a regular here -- it would be wonderful to know that a few Irish folk were keepin' an eye on Ghostories.
Here's to ya -- and may ye be in Heaven a half an hour before the Devil knows yer dead!
Two From Wisconsin
Hailing From: Racine, Wisconsin
Where it Happened: Downtown Racine
This is not my own story but I think it needs to be told. My friend angel moved in with his grandmother and sister. The house was an old creepy house in downtown Racine. His sister had started to tell him about hearing rummaging noises in the bathroom, and footsteps going up and down the hallway in front of her room. Since Angel's room was across the hall, he didn't believe her because he hadn't heard anything -- but then again he was a sound sleeper. When she kept on nagging him to do something, he decided to be a good brother and spend a night in her room, just to prove she had dreamt up the whole thing.
So the next night he slept on the floor in her room. While he was soundly sleeping his sister heard the footsteps again and she woke him up. Surprised, he realized that there was something walking down the hallway and he also realized that he had forgotten to close the door. He jumped in bed with his sister and they covered their heads with the covers.
They heard the footsteps getting closer and, according to his sister, it had never come that close. Since the door was only open a crack they felt a little safe until they saw a faint, rather soft glowing light through the crack -- and then the ghost kept on coming -- so once again they hid under the covers.
Angel then asked his sister to look when "it" stopped at the door. They could feel it just standing there and in front of the door their was a slight chill in the air. Finally his sister built up the courage to look and there she saw a smiling face on a transparent glowing head with no eyes peaking into her room. Crying, she hid under the covers pretending to sleep.
They both felt and heard the door swing open and a cold chill came in with what appeared to be the ghost They heard it come into the room closer and closer to the bed and it gently sat on the edge of the bed. They said that they felt like in a trance and fell asleep when they awoke it was morning. It never happened again as long as the door was kept closed, even though they continued to hear footsteps, but they never saw the figure again.
Later, they found out a lady was killed by a robber while going up to say good night to her children -- but she never got that far.
Here is another story was told by a family member about one of her friends: A young mother with an 18 month old baby bought an old house. When they cleaned everything out they discovered a room near the baby's bedroom -- and it had a little tub in it. So the mother cleaned up the room and would give her baby a bath in this little tub.
One time after a bath the mother left her baby in the room to get a towel, and from the next room she heard laughing and giggling of the baby together with a slow friendly adult voice talking to her baby. Thinking it was her husband, she went back into the room only to find there was no one there at all.
She was frantic and thought that there could have been somebody there playing with her baby, so she went to the library to search the files for this old house. She found out that their house used to be a funeral home and the room was the old embalming room and the tub where she bathed her baby was the tub where blood was drained and replaced by embalming fluid.
She moved out the next week even though the ghost never meant to hurt them and until the week they moved out there was frequent giggling coming from the baby's room.
Cold Enough to Shiver
Hailing From: Kansas
Where it Happened: Kansas State University
This is not as attention grabbing as some of the other stories here but it happened and I thought I would share it.
I attended Kansas State University several years ago and was living in the Kappa Sigma Fraternity house for a short time. Legend has it that a member (I think) hung himself in the building. Since it was so long ago that I was there I cannot remember what the name of the ghost was. To the best of my recollection he was not a violent ghost, he just liked you to know he was there on occasion.
The second floor and the file room were the primary locations of activity for this particular ghost.
On one occasion, I was in the file room looking through some files and all of a sudden sense of coldness hit me. Not too cold that you could see your breath but cold enough to make your shiver for a second. And it was not a cooling vent because it was winter and the heaters were on. It felt as though someone was behind me looking over my shoulder. I turned around and, as in most of these ghostly accounts, nothing was there. I got what I needed quickly and left.
The file room was on the second floor next to the stairwell and I can remember many times, before even hearing the stories of this ghost, that I would have very eerie feelings walking between floors in this stairwell. I have forgotten alot of the tales of this ghost. Hopefully there is someone out there that lived in the house also and has stories, because it is really pretty fascinating.
I found it interesting, almost unusual, that this story and the last two stories started out with the same three introductory words.
Anyone from KSU wanna join in on this story?
I can almost understand the hanging part -- anyone stuck with the task of having to file -- well, nuff said, right?
I believe God invented computers to give Man one more thing to argue over. I have never met two people who totally agree on how a computer should be set up, who uses them, if more people use Netscape than Internet Explorer, if a Mac is better than a PC, how many people really have the latest modem and how much hard drive space or ram is optimum!
Will we ever know?
The House With the Hands
by Christy Parsons
Hailing From: Dallas, Texas
Where it Happened: Dallas, Texas
Before my sister Kerri moved to California we shared a small two bedroom house. It was on a beautiful, large lot with lots of trees, an oriental fish pond, and then another pond in the woods behind the house. It was a wonderful place to have parties, but my sister and I always got an eerie feeling when sitting on the deck, or in front of the picture window that looks out on the deck. Just writing about it gives me chills.
We found several granite statues and tombstones under the deck. My favorite one just said “Mom.” We asked the landlords (who never actually lived in the house) about the tombstones and statues, and they told us the man that owned the house originally was a granite carver. They also told us that there were a pair of granite hands in the front yard that were about seven feet tall. The landlords had them removed after they were vandalized beyond repair.
My sister and I settled in just fine, but after a few months strange things began to happen. The light in my sister’s bedroom would just come on in the middle of the night. The first time it happened she woke up around three o’clock in the morning and the light was just on. She came into my room and asked if I had come in there and turned it on. When I told her that I had not, she tried to shrug it off.
Over the next few nights it happened again and again. Then it started happening in the early evening. Especially when we were getting ready for bed. Kerri would be watching television waiting for me to get out of the bathroom, and the light in her room would slowly get brighter. The light did not have a dimmer switch. We had an electrician come out to check out the wiring, and he said everything was fine. There was no reason for the light to come on by itself.
After we moved out I decided to do some research on the house to see if anything strange had happened to the granite carver. I found some very interesting news articles. The granite carver’s wife had died very young leaving the man alone to take care of their infant daughter. When the girl was in her early teens she walked out to the pond behind the house. Her father was somewhere in the yard. He thought that he would go check on her, but it was too late. The last thing he saw of her were her hands sticking out of the pond. She had drown. He carved the hands to express his sorrow for his daughters death, and to ensure that she would always be remembered -- and I can assure you that she made sure that she was remembered to anyone who lived in that house.
I sometimes wonder, no, scratch that, it would be better said that I am simply and totally amazed at the stories that come in. You would think that you'd start to hear the same thing over and over, but the truth is, they just get better and better. As you can probably tell, I really liked this one and had to put it up ASAP. Christy, thanks for taking the time and sending it in -- it is a perfect addition to the Rafters Library.
Bravo!! (Standing ovation).
by Jennifer Lopez
Hailing From: Reston, Virginia
Where it Happened: In Asia
This true story took place during semester break at a university back home. Most of the students have left for the break and the dorms were mostly vacant. However some students were still there packing away getting ready to visit their families.
My cousin Vincent, friends and I were still there packing up stuff. It was getting late and so we decided to take a break. We heard that a party was going on in one of the dorm rooms, so some of us decided to go but the rest decided to chill and rest. I went with a couple of friends, but my cousin and his friend decided to stay at their dorm -- and sure enough, they had a terrifying encounter.
My cousin said he was lying around reading and he kept hearing scratching noises. He asked his friend and he said he did not hear anything (because he was listening to music on his Walkman). A few minutes went by and he heard the scratching sounds again (this time it seemed like they were getting closer and louder).
By this time, Vincent was freaked. His friend stopped his music and listened and finally heard it too. They looked around in the room, but could not see anything or anyone that would make such a noise -- until they glanced at the wall mirror and saw half a body of a woman the seem to float in the air.
She was scratching her long nails against the wall, as if she was trying to climb it. They did not wait to see what would happen next. They just ran fast until they got to the party.
We did not go back to the dorm room that night and when we came back to school, we made sure no one stayed in there anymore. I still get bad dreams about it, it just sends chills down my spine. I was just glad I went to the party and did not stay behind.
Just having to live in a dorm room at all, I'd say rates as a terrifying experience all by itself. (And, having to eat that awful cafeteria food really enhanced the whole tour. I remember one time getting a piece of hairy chicken on my plate....ee-e-e-e-e-yuk! After that we spent a lot of time at Mr. Pizza's). I'm sure this particular ecounter "raised that bar" even further!
Ghost Meet -- Request for Your Help:
I would really like to have a Ghostories "Meet" in the Riverside - Los Angeles area at the Mission Inn in Riverside. They have a ghost-guest room there, and a tour of the old hotel that includes the stories about the original family and the ghost (not to mention a great piano player in their presidential lounge and an architectural presence there that is truly amazing). If anyone has any "connections" there, I would sure appreciate it if you could work with us to make this "meet" a reality -- for the Ides of March, 1999. Also, if Huell Howser could join us there, we would be thrilled. Anyone have any Huell Howser/PBS connections?
For anyone who can help us work with the Mission Inn or with Huell Howser Productions, write me by clicking here
It's Here Somewhere!
by K. Davis
Hailing From: Walker, LA
Where it Happened: McKenzie, AL
This story did not actually happen to me, but my mother told me this story and my grandmother also swears that it is true.
My mother was born in McKenzie, Alabama in the late 1940's. Her parents were young, and lived on the family farm. My grandfather's family had owned the land for many years. His grandfather was called "BlackJack" or "Grandpa Jack." Old BlackJack was not a very nice character, and was paranoid. He believed that everyone was out to get his money, so he hid his fortune somewhere on the family property. A few years before my mother was born, he lost his memory (probably with Alzheimer's Disease or something). BlackJack forgot where he hid his money, and of course no one else knew where it was.
Every night until he died, BlackJack would roam the farm looking for his lost treasure. The family was used to hearing him at night looking for it. Shortly after this, my grandparents got married and lived there. All during her pregnancy, she heard Grandpa Jack up at night looking for his treasure.
The problem was, Grandpa Jack died before my grandparents got married.
No one informed my grandma of the haunting until she experienced it herself. At night the entire family heard him roaming the halls, cursing and looking for his treasure. Needless to say, my grandmother demanded to move out, and they did shortly after my mother's birth. Now the house has been abandoned, but they say that if you pass by late at night, you can still see a candle burning in the window, and holes in the yard still appear where Grandpa Jack has been looking for his treasure.
I'm darn near positive that anyone who knows me well will predict that years after I am gone, I'll still be roamin' the halls looking for my keys, my glasses and my wallet . . . and not in that order!
Thanks for a great story. Now, how about emailing the address to the farm so that I can visit with my metal detector? (Come to think of it, that's what I could use to find my keys, glasses and . . . )
Ten Minutes Too Much
by Andrew Beard
Hailing From: Vancouver, Washington
Where it Happened: Washougal, Washington
This is the first experience I ever had where there was no chance of blaming it on my fertile imagination. It gives me the creeps still after nearly seven years.
A little history first . . .
In 1990, my dad and my stepmom bought a really big old house in the town of Washougal in the Columbia Gorge. The house was built in 1905, we were told.
I didn't live with my dad, my brother and I lived with our mom and just visited Dad on weekends and summers. But my 3 stepsisters lived there, so did my adopted brother, who was a baby at the time. The first year they lived there, nothing weird happened. The house was really warm and had that lived-in feel that big families bring. Because it was so big and old, we joked that it might be haunted but were never serious.
In the summer of '91, my 10 year old stepsister, Brandy, told me that she heard footsteps following her up the big staircase when she would go up to bed at night. I was 12 and tried to rationalize that it was just echoes. Imagine my dismay a few months later when I was going up the stairs one dark night and did indeed hear footsteps. The scary part was, the footsteps continued long after I stopped to listen. I ran to my sister's room and slept in there that night.
The second year they lived there, the house changed. We became really afraid to play upstairs after it got dark. My stepmom would be downstairs and hear footsteps upstairs when all of us kids were asleep. The dog would bark at walls for no apparent reason.
But the thing that cinched it for me happened in June 1992.
I was home alone with Brandy and my 11 year old brother, Brady, in the afternoon. We were roughhousing in the family room downstairs but stopped dead when we heard a loud creak from the ceiling above the dining room (our baby brother's room was above that). Then we heard a little dry noise, which at the time sounded like a bird. Later, I realized it sounded like a baby beginning to fuss. Anyway, it scared us and we ran out the side door. We sat on the curb until our stepmom and sisters came home. I watched the house the whole time and never saw anyone run out. We searched the house and found nothing.
But my brother and I both saw something weird that no one else did.
In my oldest stepsister's room, we saw some kind of orange-black stuff (for the lack of a better word). We saw it disappear into the door jam whenever we entered any of the bedrooms.
I decided at the time that it was just imagination. My dad was out of town that night, and it was really really hot, so my brother and I went to bed at about 9 pm. We slept on the floor in my oldest stepsister's room (where we first saw the strange colored thing).
The heat made it really hard to sleep, but I was just about asleep when I heard a noise. It was the sound of a wailing baby. At first I thought it was my little brother Jesse, but he was 3 then and there's a difference between a toddler crying and a newborn crying -- and this was the sound of an itty, bitty baby.
I was really freaked out but knew I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't figure out what it was. So I got up and tried to think of rational explanations. Could it be a baby from the house next door? The crying was so loud it just had to be coming from inside the house.
I went to my brother's nursery, because it was coming from there. I was just starting to think it was him after all when I turned on his light and saw he was fast asleep. I was so scared that I flipped off the light and backed out into the hall as the crying continued, louder than before.
Then it stopped.
I was terrified, but ran back to my sleeping bag and tried to get to sleep.
I had just nodded off, when I heard another noise, even more frightening than the first. The bloodcurdling scream of a woman. It sounded like a woman being hacked to pieces. I jumped up and automatically thought it was my stepmom being attacked downstairs.
This sounds really unbelievable, but I ran down the hall towards the source of the screaming, which seemed to be downstairs. It went on as I dashed down the stairs to see what was happening.
The minute my feet hit the first floor, it stopped.
I found my stepmom in the kitchen, calmly mopping the floor. I asked her if she was screaming and she said no, giving me a skeptical look. I went to bed and finally slept, but that was the last overnight visit I ever had at that house.
It took me years to figure out what happened, for me to realize that it was real and actually happened. That's the scary part. I did go back to that house once, about a year later. My brother and I went in to look at the remodeling, and had only been in there for 10 minutes when I started to panic.
It was just a really bad, oppressive feeling. I told him we had to get out of that house RIGHT NOW. I waited in the yard until it was time to go.
They sold the house in 1994, saying it was too big and expensive. Brandy told me they sold it because it was haunted and my no-nonsense dad wouldn't admit it. Another couple bought it and did more remodeling and have had no problems that I've heard of. Someday I want to research the history of the house and find out what happened there. We have reason to believe it was a boardinghouse at one time. After this, I had no choice but to believe.
Someone just visited our Guestbook and said that our stories weren't very scary. That, in itself, is really a-ok. But I was wondering, how would you feel if you were in the same situation as noted in this story? Would you be scared? Would you find the dark corridors of this abode a little to foreboding? Tell me you wouldn't be a little freaked out!
Come On, Bark! I Dare Ya!
Hailing From: South Hill, VA
Where it Happened: Brodnax, VA
Way back in the late 1800's my grandpa told me there was a mail man and his dog who walked up and down Canaan Church Road delivering mail. They think his dog was a boxer and that it was a pretty big animal. The mail man was robbed, stabbed and killed. The robber also killed the dog and beheaded him.
Many years later my grandfather, his brother, and a friend lived on Canaan Church Road -- and my grandpa's house had a very long drive way. He told me that when he was about 17, all three of them were just sitting around and talking at the end of the driveway when all of a sudden his brother and friend took off running, and he didn't know why. Then, he turned and looked and saw a headless dog. He says that his brother and friend were about half way down the drive way by the time he had seen the dog, yet he still caught up with them because he was so frightened.
And there were other witnesses.
My dad also lived on this same road about 30 years later, and one day his sister was washing dishes in the house and the kitchen had a window over the sink. My dads sister saw the dog walking down the street which made her frightened also but no one else saw it that day.
My grandpa also told me of a man that knew about the legend of the dog and, when he saw it walking, he pulled out his 12 gauge with some buck shot and fired three times -- yet the dog still kept on walking and disappeared.
And finally this happened about three years ago. My first cousins were at the Canaan Church Cemetery because their dad had recently died. They were there visiting their dad's grave, and nearby someone was sitting in the car with a Chihuahua. While she was waiting she saw something walk around the car -- and I guess the dog inside the car must have also because he was raising hell. So she rolled down her window and stuck her head out to see if it was a dog, and then she saw it and also noticed that it had no head. She called the others and they decided to follow it. And so they did, and it ran for about half a mile then went over on the side of the road and jumped into a little green box and disappeared.
That's the story of the headless dog. I'm sure others have seen it, but I just have not heard anything other than stories about it.
I dunno about this one, I truly don't. Weren't we supposed to be doing true ghost stories? I guess someone could say, hey, Keno, what about a headless dog? It could be, doncha think? Give the guy the benefit of the dog, er, I mean doubt. Well, what I really mean is, look at it this way, if this thing is running all around town like this, just think what his head must be up to!
I guess anything is possible -- or maybe we're just barking up the wrong tree!
Down the Stairs
by Tiffany McCullough
Hailing From: Fayetteville, Arkansas
Where it Happened: Murfreesboro, Arkansas
What I'm about to tell you is true and is something that I will never forget. The following events happened at a friend's house, and although there were always strange things happening to them, this is what happened to me.
My best friend Leeann and I were always insuperable. She and her family lived in an old house in town. It was one of those houses were the attic had been turned into rooms, and Leeann and her sister lived upstairs.
The stairway up was very narrow and there was only enough room for just one person at a time to go up, or down.
I always got the creeps staying over there, but one night my feelings were confirmed. We decided to stay home one Friday night and study. It was just me, Leeann and her mom. We went upstairs to start working and we were sitting on the floor studying. Leeann said she was going to go and get us something to drink. She went downstairs and I stayed up there. I could hear her downstairs, and her mom was in the shower.
After a few minutes I heard her walking back up the steps, or what I thought was her. I was sitting with my back to the steps so I couldn't see her. I started talking to her and she didn't answer. Then the light went off, which was a pull string right above my head -- and there I was sitting in the dark. I kept saying, "Leeann ?" -- but there was no answer.
I thought she must be playing a trick on me so I told her to stop it because she was scaring me. Still there was no answer. I remember having this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and I thought I better get up and go now!
Just when I finally got up and started to move down the stairs, I felt a hand in the middle of my back push me. I went head first down the stairs and rolled onto the floor at the bottom. I was so scared I got up and ran around the corner. There was Leeann coming out of the kitchen with two glasses and her mother out of the bathroom, both with a terrifying look on their face. They asked me what happened and I was in such shock that I couldn't even tell them.
Afterwards many strange things began to happen to Leeann and her family. They moved out about six months after all that. I don't know if they remember, but I know that I will never forget it.
Hailing From: Evansville, Indiana
Where it Happened: Cramers Lake, June 10, 1998
I have never been one to have frequent experiences with ghosts. In fact, I had never had experience until this past June. I met a girl through work, named Kristi, and we became close friends after we both quit our jobs. On June 10, she invited me to come over to her apartment to hang out. It was around 9:00 p.m. when this occured. She lived (has since moved), in an apartment that was located on a lake 15 miles from town, in the middle of nowhere. Cramers Lake had been there for many years. She had a balcony which over looked the lake, the diving boards, and the slides. We were sitting outside smoking, when we both started hearing a thumping noise.
There are only two apartments on the lake, and the other apartment is occupied by the owners, who were not at home at the time. Because of the location, if anyone had approached in a vehicle, we would have heard them.
At first we both thought that it was just an animal rummaging through a trash can, but as we sat there the sound grew louder until we couldn't ignore it any longer. It was a very clear and still night, but yet we both had a very eerie feeling. So, we went inside to escape to a more familiar and comfortable situation. However, the noise was even louder inside, and seemed to becoming from something right below us.
"What is below this apartment?" I asked her.
"A public bathroom, but it remains locked after hours." My friend replied.
We threw around a couple of ideas, as to what the noise could be. But, curiosity was getting the best of us so we lit two candles, one for each of us to carry, and decided to go down and investigate.
As we walked, we grew more uncomfortable by each step. We went to the bathroom door to verify that the noise was coming from within.
Ater checking the door and finding it unlocked, we decided we were going to go inside. (Of course we spent ten minutes arguing over who was going to go in first, and I lost). I entered first with Kristi close on my tail. When we got in there, one of the stall doors was swinging and hitting the frame, even though there wasn't any wind at all.
Within a minutes time, it stopped swinging, and I could hear a little child crying. I went and looked in both stalls, with Kristi close at my side, and there was no one in there. I looked at Kristi and said, "Come on, I've seen enough."
We quickly hurried back to her apartment, both of us too scared to say anything. Climbing the stairs to her apartment, the banging noise resumed. When we walked into the apartment I asked her, "Did you hear the child crying?" She told me "Yes, and I know who it is."
She proceeded to tell me that four years prior, a 10 year old boy drowned in the lake, on June 18. She had lived there for a year and a half, and she said that the year before, right around the time of his death, weird things happened. When her neighbor, Keith, got home, we told him about what happened. He said, "yes, that doesn't surprise me. Last year he gave me a light show, flipping the colored lights on the stage, on and off."
I found out that Keith was the one who tried to save the boy, and that he often gives him a visit. Kristi moved out in August, saying that she couldn't handle the stress and fear that came from living there. I did not return to the lake since that night. The boy didn't seem to want anything more then to make his presence known, but it scared me enough to make me not want to go back.
No More Wee-Jees
by Gretchen Boise
Hailing From: Earlville, NY
Where it Happened: My Parent's House
This story is a true story, involving a creepy house that my family lived in (my parents still live there). When I was 16 my father got transferred to a new town. We bought this huge old house, it was built sometime in the early 1800's. It is a beautiful house, but creepy none the less. Strange things started happening even before we were actually moved in.
On the very first day (we were still waiting for the moving truck to arrive) my sisters and I were exploring what was to be our new home. At the very end of the long, narrow upstairs hallway was the room that was going to be my youngest sister's bedroom. On this first day I was walking down this hallway, and I heard my sister's voice in that room -- so I went to see who she was talking to -- but when I walked in the door no one was in the room.
I looked out the window, and my 2 sisters were in the yard running around. I had a chill run down my spine I will never forget. That was the beginning of it. It started out with little things like doors opening by themselves, and lights turning on and off by themselves. Then it progressed to knockings. We would hear knocking on the wall coming from that room at the end of the hall (which my sister after two nights in that room decided she didn't want as her bedroom, and ended up being used as a storage room and locked tight).
I was not the only one who heard this knocking either, thankfully. Soon, my youngest sister started having nightmares, bad ones and she would end up sleeping on my parents bedroom floor.
One night in particular she said it felt like someone was blowing in her ear, she got mad and yelled "stop it", and put her stuffed animal over her ear, the next morning when my mother went to wake her up for school, she sat up and there draped around her neck was a belt, a belt that I had left on her bedroom floor. By this time I was 19 and had my own apartment, but when she called me and told me about what had happened, my friend and I decided to go over to my parents house and do the Ouija Board.
It took awhile to find the Ouija Board ( it was packed away in a box in the back bedroom at the end of the hall). We went to the living room, sat down on the floor, and started asking questions. At first when it started to move I thought it was my friend, because I knew it wasn't me!
Anyway, we started asking questions, and it turned out that there was the ghost of a young man (I can't remember what his exact age was) -- the board said he had died in a car accident.
We asked it why he was doing this to my sister, and it said, "Like her."
We asked why?
It said, "Pretty."
We asked who she looked like, and then it spelled out my name.
(Of course, at this point I am still skeptical, wondering if my friend is the one making it move).
Then I asked, why it didn't come to my place then it said, "NO!"
We asked why?
It spelled out, "Protected."
We asked protected by who?
It then, unexpectedly and with total shock to all of us, spelled out the full name of my neighbor -- who had died only 2 years before.
(Mind you, neither of us knew his first name, we only knew him my his last name, which was Mr.Cruz!)
I'm sure I don't need to tell you how scared we were. We left my parent's house in quick fashion and went straight to my neighbor's house to talk to his wife. I told her what had happened, and she said she wouldn't be at all surprised because she has seen him all the time, and he is just making sure we are all OK. Now, as for the Ouija Board, after hearing about this, my mother got freaked, and didn't want that thing in her house any longer, so my father burned it, and low and behold my sister's nightmares stopped!!!!
I, myself, will NEVER touch another one as long as I live.. that's a fact!
by Montana James
Hailing From: Stanton, Iowa
Where it Happened: Stanton, Iowa
I've always been intrigued by ghosts and the supernatural and somehow I feel it's my mission to actually see a ghost. Having actually felt one, I believe I deserve at least that much! Here is a true account of what happened to me on a cold and windy November night when I was 15.
I grew up living in a hundred year old farmhouse in the heartland of America. It was a two story house with wearing paint. The kind of house that people are afraid to approach if their car breaks down. There was an old scary barn in front of the house that I was too scared to explore.
Most people in the town were very skeptical of ghosts and unexplainable occurrences, I'm definitely not . . . any more.
My mom had cooked us a nice dinner, as she often did and afterwards she, my brother and my sister had settled in to watch television. I had been feeling just fine all day and was very shocked when I suddenly came down with the chills. My mom said it was probably because the house was drafty and I had gotten too cold outside earlier. They got so bad that I finally had to go to bed because my family couldn't hear the TV with my teeth chattering!
Anyway, I turned out my light, shut my closet door and crawled into my comfy bed. I had my back to the door of the room and was looking out my bedroom window at the hazy moon. I was close to lullaby land when I suddenly felt that I couldn't breathe. I tried to yell for my mom but nothing would come out. Then it happened. I felt three distinctive taps on my right shoulder. Not quick taps but long ones with a few seconds in between. When I could breathe again and was gasping for air, I felt around, afraid to look, but no one was there. I did however feel a difference in temperature on that side of the room. I kept saying over and over . . . mom, mom, mom -- but I was afraid to scream for one reason or another.
The urge finally became to great I leapt out of bed and in doing so had to pass through the chilly presence. On my way to the door I had to pass a bookshelf and somehow as I passed it, it fell with such force all the books flew to the other side of the room and the wood actually splintered where it had fallen. This being a carpeted room I found this really amazing.
I ran downstairs and grabbed my mother shaking her telling her what had happened. Of course she didn't believe me but let me sleep downstairs in the living room anyway.
The next day the bookshelf was back where it was and all the books were in the exact order they had been before the took the flying leap across the room. I had no proof and my my mom told me it must have been muscle spasms in my shoulder.
At least I know the truth.
I will never forget that night or the strange presence that invited itself into my room. I don't know if they were trying to tell me something or just scare me. I will never know why, or who, but I know where and when -- and that's enough for me.
Thanks for sending in your story, Montana. Excuse the long wait (Montana's story came in last Halloween -- hey, I told y'all I was behind!) Anyway, we enjoyed it and hope you get your wish someday and actually see a real ghost . . . maybe you could arrange to go to a reputed local haunted house in your area and then tell us about it in the Newsletters section of Ghostories? Better yet, assemble a group of people to go with you using our Personals section. Whatever you do, be careful, have fun and make sure to take two flashlights -- well, at least that's what we learned when we visited the Captain's Anchorage in Big Bear, California. That old upstairs got mighty dark at one point -- especially in the slanted hallway!
The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. Afterward, he walked me to the car.
We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again."
"Funny thing is," he smiled, "When I come out in the morning to pick em up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."
Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut
Hailing From: Dalls,Texas
Where it Happened: San Antonio, Texas
Nothing entertains me and frightens me more at the same time as sitting on my parent's porch at night and listening to my mother tell her scary tales, and believe you me, she has many.
This particular incident happened when my parents had just gotten married. They were visiting my grandmother in San Antonio and were about to settle in for the night. My uncles Louie and Joe were sitting outside smoking a cigarrette when they heard the neighbors' dogs barking their heads off. Suddenly they noticed a lady dressed in black walking down the street. My grandmother lived on a dead end street so my uncles thought it strange that a woman would be out at this time of night (2:00 a.m.) on her own walking towards the creek at the end of the street.
Well, men will be men, so my uncle Louie bet my uncle Joe that he would not go over and try to escort the lady wherever she was heading. Joe took the bet, and as he was making his way towards the lady she turned around and smiled at him a cold smile that sent chills up Joe's spine. Louie had gotten up to make sure Joe would go through with the bet and as they both stood there and watched her walking towards the creek at the end of the street they noticed that she was actually walking about a foot off the ground -- and then she disappeared into the darkness at the end of the street.
Well my uncles had seen enough so they both ran inside and after calming down related the story to my parents and grandmother, needless to say their story seemed to be alcohol induced, so after some strong coffee they all went to bed and didn't mention the incident again. A couple of days had passed and as evening approached the dogs started to bark at a figure making it's way from the direction of the creek at the end of the street -- and this time my uncles weren't the only ones out, some of the neighbors were out and noticed the figure -- a lady with her hair disheveld and draped across her face dressed in black.
They all stopped and stared as she made her way up the street and stopped at a house across from my grandmother's house, she mumbled something and made some hand gestures turned and made her way back from whence she came wherever that might have been, she had freaked everybody out too much for anybody to follow her and find out.
Well not long after that the old lady who lived in the unlucky house had to be admitted into the local nut house for unknown reasons other than she had suddenly gone cuckoo, she died a few months later and the lady in black was never seen again.
Wow, I know I'll be back to comment on this one. For now, I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I did.
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