Remember the Cask of Amontillado?
The Hotel Del Coronado?
The car called a Toronado?
Some romantic with Bravado?
If you do, then it is mighty possible you've been . . .

--== A Ghostories Classic Library==-- Honest, Your Honor . . . He just sits there with a squeezee of French's Mustard and stares all day long!

I was fourteen when I saw my first apparition, it was my grandfather. Almost two years later I saw my second apparition, and it was my last.

It was an early morning in late January when I was awakened by cold air on my face. There's nothing unusual about cold air when it was January in Pennsylvania, especially back when half the homes were still heated with coal. As I struggled to open my eyes I remember thinking, this isn't a draft, someone is breathing on me. What I saw when I opened my eyes terrified me and still gives me chills when I'm alone late at night.

There in the sparse light of a winter's dawn, I opened my eyes to see a black robed, hooded figure leaning over me.

I couldn't distinguish a face, but truthfully, I didn't want to. I was absolutely paralyzed! After what seemed hours, I finally was able to move enough to do the only thing I could think to do. Pull the covers over my head! That is how I woke several hours later. I remember noticing my bed was nowhere near any windows, which would have explained the concentration of cold air. I was and still am certain it wasn't a dream. The whole experience shook me so much that for months every night before I fell asleep, I'd pray that I'd never see that or any other supernatural being again, which I haven't.

I didn't talk about it until I mentioned it to my sister-in-law a month later. She believed in the supernatural and I knew she wouldn't laugh at me. I thought she'd tell me I probably dreamed it, but after I had finished, she looked at me thoughtfully and said she had seen the same figure shortly before her mother died. Then she quickly added not to worry about it.

Two months later, my father died of cardiac arrest. At that time the illustration of "The Grim Reaper" wasn't popular as it is now. As a matter of fact, it was several years later when I saw a depiction on TV that I realized that was the figure I saw.

Almost twenty years later, my teenaged daughter and her friend were on their way upstairs (not the house of my early morning visitor), when suddenly my daughter called me. Judging from the urgency in her voice, I knew something was wrong. Her friend stood at the top of our open staircase, staring down in horror. The story was, as she followed my daughter to her room, she felt compelled to look behind her. She claimed that halfway down the stairs was a black robed, hooded figure with no visible face, leaning on the outside banister, its head on its arms as though grieving.

Hiding my panic, I tried to calm her. After she went home, I questioned my daughter whether she had told her friend about my experience. She swore up and down she hadn't, and I know I had never told the girl.

Less than a week later, her grandmother died.

Whatever It is, I don't care to see it again. As I said, that was the last thing I've seen, but (and this will get a big laugh), I've heard voices and unexplainable noises. But that's another story.

Definitely not the guy you want to visit all that often, if ever. If you take a cruise around Ghostories, you'll begin to see that stories involving "seeing something" are in the minority -- most of the time people "hear something." When the story involves visual perception, that I think is when the chills really begin to approach the "frozen" mark. It is hard to imagine fear that strong, much less to try to tell someone else about it.

Many people laugh about the stories here, or say they really aren't that scary -- and that is good because it is only natural. It's easy to play armchairs -- especially on a Super Bowl day. But put those same people in a house, alone, in the dark -- and send in the Reaper to pay them a personal one-on-one visit -- and I know they'd experience the real meaning of being frightened beyond belief. Real fright, true fright, deep bone chilling debilitating fear so that you want to scream but you can't operate your vocal chords fright -- now that is extremely hard to convey to another person. It's when all the hairs are standing like metal spikes on the back of your neck. It's like having your skin stripped off with trillions of nerve endings exposed. It is one of those personal experiences where you can truly say, "You had to be there." Thank goodness most of us weren't there. I don't think I'd want to be "there." You're a very brave person.

How many of you are looking over your shoulder at the moment? In a room alone? Are your lights out? Your doors locked? Did you just hear a strange sound in the next room? Maybe you should take a moment and check on it? Reach for that flashlight over there? Or better yet, that hammer you used an hour ago to hang up that new picture. What do you suppose it was? Probably just the refrigerator cycling, or a bird scurrying on the roof -- or at least I thought that's what it was . . . didn't you?

 

 

The Cottage
by Saoirse .R. McGrath
Hailing From: Belfast, Ireland
Where it Happened: Omeath, Ireland

This is a true story that my mother told me a long time ago and is one she would much like to forget. My mum and a couple of my aunts decided to take a well deserved (or so they say!) holiday and arranged to stay in a supposedly 'beautiful' cottage. But when they arrived they knew something was wrong, it was as if the house was the very definition of gloom.

The old building towered in front of them, giving off a sense of darkness despite the warm, sunny, summer day. No-one spoke, all stunned. My mum led the way inside. The beginning of a day of terror.

Later that day one of my aunts came in after a shopping trip to the local village, she looked a little bewildered. She said that the local people had ignored her when they heard where they were staying except for one woman who had begged them to leave the house.

There was one bedroom in the house that led the way to bathroom, so like it or not , everyone had to pass through it to get to the toilet. When my mum went into the room the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and right from the second the door was opened she could feel the coldness of the room. It wasn’t quite like a wind, more like an uneasiness lingering the air, but showing itself by chilling the bedroom.

Everyone was scared and decided to leave the next morning. That night as silence once again filled the cottage and as the lights were turned off, one of my aunts began to scream as her bed began to shake violently, and would lift up and slam down. It stopped suddenly. (Everyone had decided not to sleep in the room that led to the bathroom, so it seemed that it wasn’t the only bedroom that was haunted). They all got ready as quick as they could and left in the early hours of he morning. It was a very frightening experience for those who were in the house that day.

Ok, ok I promise not to make humorous remarks here -- well, ok, almost. I really like this story, but the thought of three sweet ladies inside a house of horrors seems to cycle in my head like alternating current from a nervous giggle to downright scarey! Not to mention the villagers that wouldn't have much to do with them -- that conjures up visions of Monty Python (even though the setting is in Ireland). WHAT a vacation! I do have to say, if that was a well-deserved vacation, I'd like to know what your mum and her sisters did to earn it!

Once again, thanks for sending it in. It is much appreciated.

Oh, and one last thing, do they have "Magic Fingers" in Ireland? Just curious . . . =[;-)

 

 

Model GhosTee, Village Mo-Ghoul
by Barbara King
Hailing From: Livonia, Michigan
Where it Happened: At work, where all the ghosts know YOUR name!

I work at a major museum in the Midwest and I always thought my dream job would be to work there, because I always enjoyed learning the history behind it. It is a very large museum and it is certainly great to meet all the different visitors that we get. But it is an unwritten law that we never can discuss anything that may happen to us because it would take away the purpose of the visit there.

It was a very slow morning in January, and I was all alone in a building reading to myself, and trying not to fall asleep, when I heard footsteps above my head! There is only one set of stairs that led to the second floor and I was sitting next to the padlocked door. I started to try not to run screaming out of the building, and to start breathing again when they suddenly stopped! I shook the padlock, certain that it was locked, and I decided it was time to relax by the front of the store (my common escape).

As I stood on the steps started to relax a little, and by then more people were entering the village, so I forgot the incident and told scads of people about the building, who worked in it, etc. . . . when around noon, as I was locking up for lunch, I heard them running up and down the stairs behind the door again!!! This time I just slammed the door and ran next door to the other building I was relieving the workers in.

I didn't think that the footsteps would follow me, I mean, it is a completely separate building and a different time period, etc. . . .

I was wrong.

I told the ladies in the other building that they had an hour break, and then I described what had happened to me. They spent the next 20 minutes trying to coax anything that may have haunted the building to appear so they could see it themselves. Well nothing happen, I was extremely freaked out, and they then went to lunch.

As expected nothing happened for another few minutes, and just as the adrenaline in my body was settling down to normal, I heard them again!!!!!!

All I could think was, "They're heeeere!" (from whatever horror movie that line is in).

I was sitting across from another set of stairs that again led to the second floor of the house, but these stairs had a velvet rope across them, because of fire codes, no one can go upstairs. So I'm staring at these un-accesable stairs watching the window curtains sway; there is no heat in any of these buildings so it couldn't have been a register or a door they were all closed. And I felt as if I were going to have a heart attack and die!

I started to feel faint from fear, when a family came in and asked me to show them the house. I did and they quickly left, but I did have enough presence of mind to notice that when they were in the house the curtains stopped swaying, and the footsteps stopped. I also had asked if anyone in the groups had had a child escape and run upstairs, every group said no, but I just couldn't believe what was going on.

Needless to say, I spent a majority of my time that day on the porch of the home waiting anxiously for the other employees to come back so I could leave!

I don't work in that division of the museum anymore, but I did work those buildings several more times, and the footsteps never happened again. I wonder why they decided to on that particular day!

Famous places and famous faces (boots too) always make for great ghostly tales. I thank you for sending it in.

I always wonder when I am touring an old museum and being told about the virtues of (fill in the blank: A) the padres, B) the saints, C) the founders, D) the big dogs who are dead now; or E) all of the above) if they just might have been not as pure as the legends they paid for to be told would like you to think.

Take for example one really big dog who virtually strutted 'round the town I grew up in, way before I was even a glint in my parent's eyes. This guy created one of the most valuable inventions known to mankind -- and in that regard, he served his fellow man proud -- but alas, the fame and fortune that follwed went directly to his head and he forgot who he was and why he was even on this planet. In short, humanity seemed to have escaped him.

After his death, there were a lot of books written about his life in the generation before ours, and from what I have heard he was a real despot (well, there are better words to use, but I'll refrain here) to work for -- treating regular employees much like (or a little worse than) cattle. Even professional family men would come to work in the morning to find their entire desk packed up in a cardboard box -- sometimes after 20 years of working for this insensitive jerk -- without even the courtesy of any forewarning or reason or severance.

Quite possibly, and maybe hopefully, a dearly departed's boots were used to teach him a little humility from time to time -- and maybe those were the kind of noises you might have heard that fateful day!

(I, for one, believe that if you cheat people, take advantage or treat others poorly in this life, you'll get what's coming to you in the next life tenfold -- so maybe and hopefully it is entirely possible).

Again, thanks for sending in the story -- it was, and is, great!

 

 

 

Last Lunch For You
by Allyson and Stephany Holmes
Hailing From: North Adams, Mass.
Where it Happened: Silvio O' Conte Middle School

On Thursday December 15, 1974 a young 7th grade boy, named Triet Utigi got in a fight at lunch. The next day he had in school suspension, which was on the top floor, in the attic. The Dean of Students locked him in there so he couldn't leave . . . .

Bee-e-e-e-e-e-e-p-p-p-p! (Went the final bell.)

"Have a great winter vacation class."

The Dean of Students had become preoccupied and forgot about Triet. He left school, and left poor Triet alone in the attic. He had no food and nothing to drink. So he died up there.

Mr. Green went up there the day they came back from winter vacation and noticed the dead body. So, Mr. Green called the police and had them come up and investigate. They figured that because he had been left up there all alone he died from starvation and dehydration.

The next day weird things started happening at the school. The elevators opened with no one there. The toilets in the girls room started flushing with no one using them. Pencils started rolling off desks. Doors would open and shut in classrooms with no one entering or leaving.

So they figured it was the spirit of Triet Utigi.

And to this day he still haunts Silvio O'Conte Middle School.

I guess the moral of the story is if you fight at lunch, no more treats?

Oh my, did I say that????

Yikes!

 

Messengers
by Mitzi
Hailing From: Arkansas
Where it Happened: Pasadena, Maryland

I'm not sure of the year, but I was a small child. My brother Steve liked to party and have fun. He was always going out with friends, and having a good time. One night, my parents were watching TV, and I was upstairs in my room. We heard sirens coming down our road. I ran downstairs, always curious. We heard a knock at the door. My mother answered it, and a woman was standing there. She was in a white flowing dress, very pale.

She started waving her hand down the street, and said, "Steve needs you, he's been hurt."

My mother turned just to pick up her coat, which was right by the door, and the woman had disappeared!

We ran down the road, and my brother was in a major car accident. The ambulance was on its way.

We tried for weeks, to find the woman and thank her. We described her to everyone. No one had a clue as to who we were talking about. Perhaps it was a mother that had lost her child on that same curve, and wanted to make sure that my brother had his parents with him, when he needed them.

 

To Buy, or Not to Buy, A GhosTee -- Just a Quick Footnote

Here's a little footnote about Ghostories Collector Tees. I only started the GhosTees because they were fun and people loved them.

And for real, I love it when people purchase tees, in fact you should see me at the post office . . . it's always a real treat . . . but there is no need to even mention that you wanna buy a tee, or are interested in one unless you really do want to wear and you really do want to own one. For reals, I have enough "good stuff" from just having this site to ever worry about selling GhosTees . . . they are just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

Actually, the last few people who purchased tees told me they love wearing them, and one fan said she was going to hem hers into a "Vee-neck" just to see how it turned out, and if it was a winner, she asked me if I would I tell others that she would do it for them if they ordered one, and of course I said yes. Not because I make any money with them, just because I love doing it and seeing people wear them. Hope it's ok to say all this, but I thought it was time to mention it once again.

Also, we're getting caught up with the stories that were sent in over Halloween and Thanksgiving -- and so it looks like we are right on schedule for accepting new stories after March 31st.

 

 

 

They're Here
by Tiffany
Hailing From: Denham Springs, LA.
Where it Happened: St. Francisville, LA.

The other day my aunt came to visit my mother, and later that night my mom told me that my aunt told her that weird things have been happening to her lately.

My aunt and uncle had a house built last year. They cleared a large piece of land on a lake -- and viola!

Anyway she said my uncle has seen what he thought was a shadow on the wall. There are cold spots (a sure sign of you know what) and when she sits on her couch she feels like someone or SOMETHING is nudging her in the side.

Having experienced this myself, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

My aunt is by herself a lot because my uncle works out of town. The house that was there before had about 20 or so cats living in the basement. The old lady living there took care of them. I have yet to find out if this woman died there or any other history of the previous residence. I suspect that something was disturbed while they were clearing and leveling off the land -- and I would love to find out what it is that is causing this, but then again I do not miss the feeling of knowing there is something more than meets the eye. I think I would have a heart attack right then and there if I went through it one more time.

Anyone who claims to have this experience has all of my sympathy, and as for the skeptics, they can laugh all they want because we all know what is real.

You never know when your next visitor come, or show itself, without calling first.

Great story, Tiffany. Thanks for sending it in. Goes to show you, doesn't it, that it isn't necessarily the house that is the home for unexpected tenants or visitors, but it can well be the "spot" that holds the key. Thanks for visiting us via Web TV -- come back often, you're always welcome.

 

 

 

Hands On Experience
by Alexandra Carter
Hailing From: Giza, Egypt
Where it Happened: Cousin's house

This had happened back at my cousins house when I was visiting her. My cousin had got this new Ouija board and had begged me to play it with her. I had agreed to, but she had explained that it would be more scary if we were to play it at night (just like the instructions said).

After dark we went off into the basement to play. My cousin had also invited her best friend over to make it more fun. It was dark, damp and I could hardly see any of the letters. After a few seconds -- we waited, and waited, and waited -- until suddenly the pointer slowly started moving.

I thought that it was my cousin, since she loved to scare me. We began to ask this Ouija board a couple of questions. From what we had found out so far, this spirit was a woman who died at the age of 37 and had two kids.

I could feel a cold presence sitting next to me, but I thought nothing of it. I looked down at the pointer to see who was actually pushing it . . . and there it was . . .

I swear I saw a ghost hand pushing down on the pointer.

I freaked out, and told my cousin and her friend to go and look at the pointer. I starred at my cousin who's face went pale -- and we stopped playing the Ouija for the night.

Could this be similar to the thing about the sound of "one hand clapping!" It's not often you hear about a hand on the Ouija Board. Thanks for sending it in -- all the way from the land of the Pharohs even.

I wonder if this is where the Addams Family got the idea to adopt "Thing." Naw . . . but hey, since our recent trip to the land of Laughlin, it makes me wonder -- if this hand can work a Ouija Board, I wonder how it might do at Blackjack! We didn't do too bad there, and my greatest thanks goes to the hospitality of those wonderful folks at the Pioneer -- to me it is still the best place to stay! (Ok, and to the pit boss Paul, who only came by to tease people with "sorta-offers" for freebies, we did love the Golden Nugget -- not just for the music and the money they kept giving us (chuckle) -- but next time, ol' Mr. Pit Boss, if you're going to come over and talk about giving us some freebies, why not make good on it? Hmmmm?

Ooppps...did I get off the subject again?

 

 

 

Home Alone with an Angel
by Barry Gentry
Hailing From: Lawrenceburg, Indiana
Where it Happened: Dillsboro, Indiana

About 6 or 7 years ago, my mom and I were living in a former in-laws house that they rented to us. It was a real old house -- one of those old beauties that needed the whole works done to it. At the time, my mom was a nurse at a nearby hospital -- and I was "home alone."

Well, see, I'm a very big wrestling fan, and there was a wrestling program on that night after my mom had left for work. The only light on in the house was in my room, and everywhere else the lights were off.

Around 10:00 p.m. I decided to get up to go to the bathroom. You can see my mom's bedroom from mine quite well, and when I opened my bedroom door there was an old person dressed in a white dress.

It scared the holy "c" out of me.

Whatever it was only stood by my moms bedroom door for only a few seconds. At first I thought someone had broken into the house. Then, I walked all over the house and there was no sign of broken glass and all the doors were locked (no sign of forced entry). Believe me, I was really scared to tell my mom what I saw because I wasn't really sure exactly what I really did see -- and I thought my mom would think that I was crazy.

Then, a year went by and we were watching a special on television on Angels, and it was then that I told my mom what I had witnessed that night. That's when my mom told me that our in-laws grandma had died in that house a long time ago. Until that night I had never been sure what I saw that night.

 

 

Tao Tao Mona Trickster
by Jen
Hailing From: Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Where it Happened: Inarajan, Guam

My little encounter occurred on an island called Guam -- a place that resounds with tales of ancient spirits that still inhabit the island. My tale falls is about the Tao-Tao-Monas, as they are called.

I used to go horseback riding every Saturday with my best friends uncle who has a ranch in the village of Inarajan in Guam. One Saturday, we were leading the horses through the boonies (jungle) and we came to a river. We tied horses to a tree and proceeded to look for a spot to cross. After finding a suitable crossing point, we returned to find one of the horses missing. We looked for about and hour, in at least a mile radius, but found neither hide nor hair of Strawberry.

We rode back double on my horse, Sunshine, and went to the fairer who had a ranch near by. We told him where we had tied up Strawberry, and that we couldn't find her. Randy, the fairer, told us to stay on his ranch and he would go back and check the area for her. About half an hour later, Randy rode up on Strawberry! He said she was tied up to the exact tree we left her at!

(A small note before ending my tale: you know when you have been visited by a Tao-Tao-Mona due to the red pinch marls they leave on your skin.)

After returning home that night, in the shower, I looked at myself in amazement, I was covered in red pinchmarks, head to foot. After getting out of the shower, I called my friends uncle and told him about the marks. As it turned out, he was covered with them too! I know that the ancients are still on Guam, and will be for awhile!!!

Excellent story from across the seas, Jen. And, from a place that holds some great memories for me, as it was many years ago that I spent a long-haired humid summer there exploring white sandy beaches and making new friends. I remember the boonies and the cliffs (a subject I'll be writing about in my "Thank You" page.)

The most amazing part about being there was the "ancient" feeling of the island and the vast differences this little "rock in the ocean" had to offer -- from dense jungles, to high foggy cliffs, to black coral reefs, old seemingly forgotten villages, mission-like churches, and the unbelievably clear waters to dive and snorkel in with fish and ocean life of every color and shape abounding in what seemed like pure blue-green heaven! All within a 12 mile long by 5 mile wide jewel in the set in the chain of the Micronesia Islands.

Once again, thanks for sending it in. It brought back a few memories!

 

 

I'll Miss You All
by D. P. M.
Hailing From: Atlanta, Georgia
Where it Happened: In a Midwestern Town

This story did not happen to me, it happened to my mother. I did check with her and verify the details, so it is accurate. Unfortunately I must be a little vague about the details of time, place and names in order to honor a promise made by my parents at the time these events occurred.

When I was an infant, my parents lived in the same mid-sized, Midwestern town they had both been born in. They had a circle of friends they had known collectively and respectively for many years. Part of that group was my dad's best high school friend, whom I will call "Bill."

My dad and Bill were very close and to this day my dad gets a little quiet when his name comes up. Bill was unmarried and had been dating a woman (let's call her "Lillian") who was not very popular with his family or friends. She was considered sort of crazy - neurotic, given to fits of rage and wild behavior.

Bill and Lillian were pretty much on the outs as a couple, but were at that ending stage of their relationship where they still got together occasionally (usually resulting in a fight).

One night Bill and Lillian went out and ended up having an argument. She was driving the car they were in, and due to her anger, she was driving way too fast and had an accident -- while she was relatively unharmed, Bill was thrown from the car and killed.

Here is the part about the promise made by my parents: Bill had had some medical tests done a day or so before he died. The lab results didn't come back until after his death and they revealed that Bill had had kidney cancer. It was unlikely he would have had a long or healthy life. His parents made everyone promise they would never reveal this to Lillian, however, because they never wanted her to feel guiltless about causing the accident that killed their son. They considered her crazy enough that she might decide she'd done him and everyone else a favor, and absolve herself of any responsibility.

And now here comes the ghost part.

My mother began to see Bill around town.

A day or so before his funeral, she got off an elevator in an office building (the old-fashioned kind that still had an operator) and turned around to see him standing in the back of the elevator.

He just stared, without expression, she said, and then the doors closed.

My mom said she was sort of shocked, but still went about her business.

A couple of weeks later she saw him in a car next to hers at a red light. She said she looked over and he was sitting in the back seat with several other occupants of that car, who seemed to be entirely unaware of their extra passenger.

And she could see right through him, to the other people in the seat.

But the most touching and personal episode occurred early one morning, about a month after Bill's death. My father had already left for work and the baby (me) had been fed and had gone back to sleep. My mom was taking advantage of the quiet time to read in bed. Suddenly she looked up and Bill was standing in the door of her bedroom, and again, she could see through him. There was no mistaking who it was though.

My mom sort of started and said, "Bill?" -- in kind of a wondering way.

He reached out his hand to her and said, although not out loud, she just "heard" his voice in her head,

"I'll miss you. I'll miss you all."

Then he gave a kind of wistful, rueful smile and sort of shrugged, and disappeared.

Not gradually, nor did he walk away, just one minute there, and one minute not.

She walked over to where he had been and stood there and while it was not colder or warmer, she said it "felt different" in some indefinable way. She was not in the slightest bit frightened, just sad about the way things had turned out.

This was the last sighting she had of Bill. We hope he knows how much my father cared for him and that he is at peace.

These are the stories most Ghostories people live for.

Thanks, "D" -- thanks for sending it in.

Pleasant dreams, everyone! *=[:-)

 

 

 

An Angel to Watch Over Me
by Traci Johnson
Hailing From: Orlando, Florida
Where it Happened: In my home

I have to tell you about my experiences with a Ouija board. Several of my very close friends and I used to play the board regularly. We contacted a spirit that we spoke with for about a year. Her name was Tamara and we occasionally spoke with her son AJ.

Now this is really not a scary story, for Tamara was a very sweet and protective spirit. She guided me and my friends through some very rough spots throughout our time that we were communicating with her. She pinpointed names and dates of people we would meet and eventually marry, and we didn't even know who these people were at the time. She said that she would always watch over and protect us -- and she did.

There would be times when we would just feel like something bad might happen so we would avoid going out for the night, and the next day we would hear that something had happened at the place we had planned on going to -- and we always said, "Thank you, Tamara".

About a year and a half after we first contacted her, she began to express the desire to cross over to a new place, and she asked us to help her and AJ. We got AJ crossed over fairly easily and quickly, but Tamara took quite a while. The strangest thing that happened was there was one particular candle we had always burned when we used the board, and when we finally felt we had crossed Tamara over, that candle went out. Just that one candle, and we had about 5 other ones burning at the time!

So we knew then that Tamara was finally at peace with her son.

Things that Tamara had told us four years ago are still coming true. And I believe she still watches over "her girls" because I can still feel her around me sometimes. And I think she watches over my daughter whose birth she predicted exactly right three years before she was born.

I know this isn't very scary but it was a very significant time in our lives that we will never forget.

Still, when all is said and done, this story belongs on Ghostories and I thank you for sending it in, Traci. It's significance isn't grounded in the fact that nothing bad happened, but it is a true indication that good things can happen too. After all, most of our Ouija stories always seem to end in some strange and scary event -- this particular story will let others know that this isn't always the case.

Probably the most significant element of this story is that very fine line between ghosts and angels . . .

 

 

 

Claws Call
by Daniel H.
Hailing From: Louisville, Kentucky
Where it Happened: Baltimore, Maryland

My name is Daniel and I am 15 years old. I was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, but we moved to Kentucky two years ago. This story is about when my mom and I went to visit my 21 year old sister in Baltimore -- she had a roommate, and 4 kids lived there (my sister's daughter, her roommate's two daughters, and my other sister). We arrived late at night, around 9 p.m. and on the way everyone was trying to convince me and my mom that the house was haunted.

Well, I believe in the paranormal, but it takes alot to frighten me. Well that night we were all playing around and I fell asleep on the couch down stairs, while everyone else was upstairs (my sisters and their roommates were late birds, they never went to sleep till 3 a.m.). While I was sleeping something woke me up by tugging on my sheets. I thought it was my sister playing a joke on me, but when I woke up no one was there.

This didn't really bother me so I went back to sleep. In the morning my sisters roommate's 11 yr old daughter woke me up because she was going to school. I asked her why they tried to wake me up last night, and she insisted they didn't.

The day passed by very fast, and it was around 7 p.m. when they decided to tell us the story of what had been happening. As it turned out, a guy across the street told them the house had been a butcher's place -- but the butcher was a very mean person, and everyone believed he killed people. Nobody knew his name, they just called him "The Man."

They told me my two year old niece was to first see "the man" one day while Sandy, my sister, was cleaning up. My niece had just told someone to leave her alone and my sister turned around to see who she was talking to but no one was even near her. Still, my niece kept saying "go away!" and, "Leave me alone!" to the wind.

Another incident happened when my niece told her mommy that "The man" had hit her. This might have not seemed real, but when my niece showed my sister her back, my sister found teeth and hand marks on her.

This freaked my sister -- but that's not the end of the story.

We were all sitting at a table playing cards, while my sister was cleaning. All of a sudden she yelled, "Ouch!!, you little bastard!" because something hit her and she thought I threw it, but I was playing cards with my mom the others.

Still, I was skeptical, until the next night when I was forced to believe. I was alone and my family went out. I didn't feel like going which was a big mistake that I've regretted ever since.

Everyone was supposed to return, but they never did that night. I was watching television when something fell in the kitchen. I though the cat had broken something so I went in to see what had happened but found nothing broken.

But I did see someone run upstairs.

Thinking someone stayed behind, I followed them, or "it," I got to the top of the stairway, but once again, no one was there.

I tried to turn on the light but it wouldn't work. I decided to walk a little further down the hallway, and then something grabbed me and I heard a horrible raging scream that sounded like it came from a man. I was really frightened and turned completely white. I tried to turn around but the flashlight went out -- I tapped it in my hands, but it was still broken.

I tried to run but something grabbed hold of me. It turned me over and started hitting me, and clawing at me. Something, or someone, was attacking me. I covered up my face, but it hurt and I couldn't break free -- it had me. Then it pulled me further down the hallway. I was clawing at the floor, and hoping I would die right now. "Please, God, kill me, have mercy on me," was all I could think.

Somehow, I broke free and ran, but when I got to the steps, it got me back, and pushed me down the steps. When I turned over and looked up all I could see was that there was a shadow over me.

I must have fainted. When I came to, my mom, a police officer and my sister was standing over me. It seems the neighbor heard me screaming, and came over to check. When he found me I was out cold, and my clothes were all torn off. He had taken me back to his place and called the police. They wouldn't believe me, they took it as a simple breaking and entering case. I would never go back. And still dream of the incident, it might sound untrue from your end, but trust me it happened.

Ayyy, Yikes! Thanks for the story, but I have to tell ya that (and don't take me wrong), while I get into trouble for questioning things from time to time, I have to wonder about some of what happened.

The most amazing thing to me is that the police didn't do anything more than what you said they did. I find that part of the story a little, well, hard to believe, because what you're describing sounds more like being attacked in your own home, and way past a simple B & E. The police would have followed up on that kind of thing, don't you think? Not to mention the part about you having your clothes torn off, that alone borders on molestation, or if not, very close to it, like assault.

I dunno, but I'm sure there are others reading this story who might have ideas too -- possibly any officers out there who could tell us what they might have done? If so, this is a good one for a discussion in the Ol' Ghostories Forum -- so if you have a point of view, why not share it there with us. I mean, what "if" there is a "man" who lives in the neighborhood who just happens to be attacking children? Call me nuts, but, whenever we're talking about ghosts, we have to keep in mind all the "What ifs." You may have had a closer claw, er I mean call, than you think!

 

Well, maybe we'll see ya in the Forum. Until then, pleasant dreams everyone -- I have to run and get a new Ghostly Library ready -- pick a new name and find a new midi -- all those fun things. I may still add just a few more stories here while I'm working on the new Library, so If any of you out there have your own midi that you would like to send in, and it's the kind of music that's good to read by, send it in and let's see if we can't make it a permanent addition to the next Ghostly Library, which I think I'm inclined to call, "Footsteps."

 

 

 

 

Chop Chop
by Marilyn Nguyen
Hailing From: Columbus, Ohio
Where it Happened: On a Farm in Kentucky

When my Grandfather and Grandmother were first married, around the early 1900's, they lived on a farm in Kentucky. This farm, it seems, housed more than your normal farm animals. At night, in the attic you could hear large pieces of furniture being moved back and forth across the floor, very rapidly. Needless to say, they wouldn't bother to check it out until daylight, but when they did nothing at all was in the attic, it was completely empty.

Out back of the house there was a woodpile where all the wood for the heating and cooking was split and stacked. Very late at night you could hear someone, or something, out there chopping wood. The morning's investigation turned up my Grandfather's ax in the exact same spot he had left it the day before and not a single stick of wood out of place.

One night my Grandfather felt especially brave, this courage brought on by some homemade moonshine, so when he heard the commotion at the woodpile he stood on the porch and yelled out, "Chop! You S.O.B, chop!"

Well, apparently the thing heard him and it began to chop faster and faster and faster to the point where it was chopping at an inhuman rate of speed. My Grandfather hightailed it into the house, grabbed his shotgun, and sat up scared out of his wits for the rest of the night.

It goes without saying, my Grandfather never teased it again while they lived there, which wasn't very long. Only my Grandfather and Grandmother lived on this farm and at that time they had no children nor hired hands working on the farm to account for these very strange happenings.

Thanks for the story, Marilyn. It did give me a chuckle though because I hate chopping wood. I mean some of the other guys I used to know who were a lot more macho than I really got into it, but it never held any fascination for me. However, I love great fires in an old cabin (or farmhouse) fireplace. So with that said, this ghost would be the perfect solution for me -- just send him/her up once a season and have them stack it right next to my RV space (nope, I don't own an RV so there is plenty of space available -- I'm either the fancy hotel or tent trailer kinda guy, not much in between. And show me a waterfall at the end of a hiking trail and I'll be there -- that reminds me, if any of you have any great waterfall pics, send 'em over -- but, ooops, there I am off the subject again!).

Once again, another great story to cap off the Uncorked Library! *={:~)

 

 

Aye Eye Yikes
by Mark Kitser
Hailing From: Ozone Park, New York
Where it Happened: One-eyed Tony's House

This story still bothers me everyday, so I'm going to get to the scary part first.

It was 2:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning and I was walking past Tony's house (Tony is very introverted, but a good friend of mine nonetheless). Tony and his family were out of town for the 4th of July holiday weekend, and it was his sisters birthday -- so I knew for a fact that NOBODY WAS HOME . . . NOBODY.

In fact, I had the keys to his house his family trusts us, so I was walking back from the night shift at work when I passed by his house. I glanced over at his house and what I saw made my heart almost stop.

I saw a glowing blue figure of a woman, and she was moaning,

"Tony, Tony, Tony-y-y-y-y-y"

And I remember distinctly it was a Spanish accent.

I jetted home and told my mother about the experience, and of course she thought I was nuts, but even so she did call their house and got no answer.

The following Monday Tony got back from his trip. I approached him and casually asked, "Who was that old lady in the window Thursday night?

To which he said, "What, are you burnt?"

I told him I really saw someone, but when I didn't get any straight answers, I approached his mother and asked her who was that old lady in the window Thursday?

But before she answered, my blood ran cold.

I glanced over at a picture of an elderly lady, and then I asked his mother, "Who is that lady"?

To which his mother replied, "That's my mother. She died years ago, and she had a Spanish accent!"

I told her that was the lady I had seen last Thursday. She was shocked, and she told me that her mother died of a stroke just after she found out her son lost his eye!

Thanks for the story, Mark. We at Ghostories appreciate it, and I have to say that with this particular entry, we're going to start a list of some of the stranger reasons some people die. I mean, there are probably a lot of them -- with many focusing on some pretty hideous turn of events -- but I would say that Tony's grandmother must have cared for him very much, or she might have "seen" things somewhat differently.