Personal Experiences - The 'Ghost' Named Bel
The house I lived in for most of my life had a strong reputation for being haunted even before my parents bought it. It makes me think ‘what in the name of god possessed them to buy it, then?’, but it always seems young people are attracted to ghosts. Maybe they thought, ‘Hey, how long could we stay in this house before being scared shitless?’. Maybe it was ‘my lifes goal is to live with a ghost! How cool!’. Of course, their motivation doesn’t really matter to me, since they were settled in by the time I was born (April 28th , to be precise). Maybe they experienced things before me, maybe not; I never really discussed it with them.
My mom was deeply religious, one of those bible freaks, always telling me to think of ‘what jesus would do’. I went to a catholic school. As such, my love for religion flickered out at an early age, and it became merely an annoyance. I didn’t like believing in things I couldn’t see. I suppose you might call me an athiest, although I’d rather not be associated with them.
Back to the house: the house was quite big, lots of rooms (that I can remember getting lost in a few times as a kid), with a big backyard. The backyard had a fence on the east and west sides, and where the fencing ended a forest began. It was a forest of those dark, needle trees (not sure what kind, sorry), that always exited me as a kid, thinking ‘oh, I have a backyard full of christmas trees!’. At the same time I never liked that forest, it was so dark even when the sun was high above it. I never really liked the whole backyard, either, despite it being furnished with a swingset, a sandbox, and a garden to get lost in. I was never outside at night, either, even if my parents and their friends were out and holding a party—it was just so dark and forboding and eerie.
The backyard is, however, also the place I first saw Bel – and by saw I mean he was standng right there, in front of my two eyes, at the edge of the forest. I was on the swings, going to and fro with a light wind in my face. When I spotted him, the wind just kind of stopped.
At the distance I was, I couldn’t make out much, just a little boy in some sort of green shirt and blue pants, with brown hair. I froze, stopped the swing instantly, wondering why a kid was in the forest, and just how he’d managed to wander his way to my backyard. I was four at the time, I hadn’t started school yet, and I’d never socialized with the kids in my neighboorhood beyond a smile and a wave (I was so shy back then), so I didn’t really know how to react.
My dad was just a little ways off, and he saw me stop. He came over, asking me what was wrong, and I just looked at him with wide eyes, pointing to the trees. He looked. ‘What, honey?’ he asks. I look back to where the boy was, and he had dissappeared. I assummed he’d run back into the forest. When I realized this, a tension and fear I hadn’t known had slipped over me fell away, and I can remember the rest of the day being vividly happier (When I remember this encounter, the colors always seem dimmed, like an overcast day).
I didn’t actually learn Bel’s name then, in case you can’t tell. After that, I never saw him for a long while. At six, I met him again. Ever since some things that had happened when I was five I was afraid of the dark, and I slept with a nightlight. I could never fall asleep without backround noise for the same reasons, so I always kept my fan on.
I remember this part vividly for such an old memory—I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling something was wrong, and my guess was spot on. My fan had stopped, the night light gone out, leaving me in pitch black. The only light streamed in from my curtains and glowed from my clock—which read 1:30 (an important number from here on out).
Once that settled in on me I got scared, wondering if I would hear scratches or knocks or footsteps, or see anything out of the corners of my eyes. I felt a weight on my bed then, at the very end (back then I didn’t take up much space on my bed, being so tiny. Also liking to curl up when I fell alseep made the space I took up even smaller). As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see whatever it was better—and then I could really see him, sitting crosslegged, hands on his lap.
He had a cute face, with short brown hair that came to his chin and pretty blue eyes. He was wearing that same green longsleeve shirt, the same bluejeans. His feet were bare, and, I noticed, his toenails were sharp-looking. Despite the harmless appearance, I was uneasy (Who wouldn’t be, at a boy that randomly appears at night in your bed, and also is in possession of sharp toes?). Then he grinned, revealing ordinary teeth, and the feeling diminished (though never actually disappeared, it’s always been there, even now; a kind of instinctual danger, like he could kill me without a moments notice).
I asked him who he was, to which he responded with a name I can’t ever remember. His voice seemed to suit his boyish appearance, though, and I was at ease. I asked him, ‘Can I call you Belle?’. He said if that was the french word, then no, and I pouted playfully. He took my hand, and traced out the letters B, E, and L. I noticed he had sharp fingernails, too.
“Nice to meet you, Bel,” I said, and he smiled, then vanished. Slowly, the devices in my room whirred back to life—my nightlight, my fan, my computer. I knew that if something turned off electronics with its presence it was bad news, but I was smitten with my first ever friend outside my family.
Over the years, only a few people other than me have seen Bel. First was my friend Lulu (A nickname I made out of her initials, L.L.), and Lulu still sees him to this day. She think’s he’s awesome, but is a little more unsettled by him than I am.
Second was my older sister, whom I was especially close to when I was 12-15. As we grew closer, we’d like to sleep in the same room at night, staying up well into the sunrise talking and playing games, the favourite being Pokemon on our GBs.
One night when we wee in the same room, Bel appeared in the mirror opposite my bed, grinning. When my sis realized I wasn’t paying attention to my game, she looked up, only to be scared shitless by said ‘boy’ (who looked older than he had when I was six; he seemed to alter his appearance to suit my age). After a year she got used to Bel. We never told our mom of him (having enough problems with her without the ghost boy). Then, when I was 15, she and I got in a big fight, and after that night she’s reported a total lack of Bel sightings, to her confusion. Noticably, that night my sis had sleep paralysis for the first time. Wether it’s related or not I can’t really say. I was well versed in what caused sleep paralysis at the time, but a little voice likes to chalk it up to Bel being naughty.
Also, it seems Bel likes to have an opinion on my boyfriends. He disapproved of my first one, was alright with my second, and hated my third. In fact, he may have saved my dignity with the third one. Mister 3 was unsatisfied with my not putting out with him, and one night we were alone in my room and he was being too touchy-feely for me, he happened to glance into that big mirror across from my bed. At the time I wasn’t sure what was wrong; he stiffened and after a moment of silence started screaming and ran out of the house. I was kind of freaked and confused as I watched him get into his car and drive away, until I turned around and saw Bel in the mirror, chuckling. Next day 3 broke up with me via text message.
In case you may think he’s there all the time, he’s not. He comes and goes, sometimes with me for hours at a time, sometimes gone for weeks at a time. Sometimes he appears as real as I am, and sits with me on my bed or walks with me and we talk, and other times he’ll appear in a mirror or reflection. Every time he does he scares the shit out of me, it’s just like, bam, and he’s there.There are times he won’t appear at all, and he’ll just be a kind of presence, like he does sometimes at night or during class like in my highschool years. In HS he liked to freak me out during exams by just coming as a voice, though it also had the effect of taking away my exam jitters.
I suppose you could pass him off as a hallucination, but would I have the same hallucination for 20 years? Also, my sis saw him, if only for a few years, and my friend sees him, too. Not to mention that freakout my 3rd had (though it might be completely unrelated).
I’ve contemplated him being a ghost, but I asked him once, and he just laughed at me. I’ve thought of demon, which might explain the forboding-ness? But if I take into account your explanation of demons, he’d terrify me, and I probably wouldn’t be unharmed. I thought of angel, but that just... no. For some reason I find the existance of demons more plausible than the existance of angels.
Haha, there was one time he and I talked about that, and he said, ‘if you can believe in the existance of extremely evil beings, why not extremely good ones?’.
Keep in mind, when figuring out what he is, that he’s been in plain sight of people like my mother and father and yet been totally undetected. He’s done little dances around them without the faintest trace of them noticing (it—haha, I’m sorry, those were just hilarious). He’s like a person, except a person that can appear and disappear at will, and not be seen by those he doesn’t want to be (which is so awesome).
Damn, this is long. If you’ve read through all my ramblings, I congratulate you.
Bel’s been an.. Entertaining part of my life, even if I’m not quite sure what he is.... Ah, I just realized I mentioned nothing else on the 1:30 topic. Oh well. And everythingI write, ever, comes out kind of like a story. :/
After Death Experience
In 1984 my father in law died. We were living in their house, in the basement, because my father in law was dying of cancer and my mother in law was paralysed. On February 16 he died during the night. We had to call the emergency services and the doctor to confirm his death. We called my wife's sister to come home and take her mother with her for a little while. The house was a nice bungalow my father in law bought after he retired. He died 2 years after. There was a service at the funeral home and we got back in the house. We were alone in hte house and we were living with our 2 boys. The kids went to sleep early and we started watching TV my wife and I in the basement where we were living. There was no one on the main floor, the house was empty. I went a few time upstairs to get refresment from the fridge and I went back downstair. I always make sure all the doors and windows are closed.
We were watching when we started hearing the rocking chair rock. My father in law was always rocking slowly on the chair. It was the same sound. Suddenly we hear foot step on the first floor and coming through the stairs to our apartment. The footstep stopped at the door. I was standing at the door and opened it very fast. There was nothing, no one. We went upstair and seached all the premises, every rooms, every wardrobe, The door were closed and there was no one.
It was a frightening experience however I don't know why I opened the door as the footsteps stopped in front of the door. My wife helped me to search all the house, the kids were sleeping heavily and never woke up during the event. My wife remembered that a long time before she told her father that if he dies, he should do something to show her there was something after death.
The house was sold a few months after and we moved in another city. The house was sold and I dont know if any phenomena occured in the house after.
This is a true story.
Ok, I know this is a weird way to start off a story about a ghost/haunting, but it’s what happened. I don’t think I have ever lived in a place that didn’t have “something/someone” else there. I don’t believe in ghosts, I KNOW there are ghosts. This was last Sunday, January 18th about 2:30 p.m. I know the time and I think I know why this happened at this time. What the heck am I talking about? Well…okay. Here goes.
The catbox, is one of those kind that has a tray and 2 sifter trays. It had just been cleaned the night before, and wasn’t too messy yet.
My husband and I had gone out to get Burger King for lunch, and bring it home. We come in the house though the laundry room, into the kitchen, past the cat box and go into our room.
I went and sat on my bed (we all hang out in my room, me, hubby and room mates) to get ready to eat my burger. I could hear the cats playing in the living room, and my dog was in his “bed” (a crate, he is a husky and can’t be trusted to not get into everything and he thinks the kitties are wonderful squeaky toys!). When we leave the house he goes in his “bed”. We didn’t want to let him out yet, since we were going to be eating lunch and he like any other dog, begs.
My husband forgot something and went back into the kitchen mere seconds after we just walked through. He calls back to us (my room mate and I) “Hey who did that to the catbox?” Huh? Who did what? Where? It was fine when we just walked through a second ago! I got up and went in the kitchen with him.
One of the sifter trays had been lifted, sifted and set back down diagonally on the edge of the rest of the catbox! It was like someone had been trying to clean it, set it down again so they could grab a bag so they could dump it! There wasn’t time for my husband to do that (he’s a big fellow and doesn’t bend over to well). It couldn’t have been the cats getting their nails caught on the sifter part (one is declawed, the other has his claws). It would have made a tremendous noise (and mess) too, aside from that; there just wasn’t time for it to happen! It wasn’t my dog either, as he was locked in his “bed” (side note, he was “crying and fussing” but we thought he just wanted out of his bed). It wasn’t my room mate, because she is in a wheelchair, and she was in the room with me. The other room mate was gone to work. I was sitting on my bed and I sure didn't do it!
Well, who did it? I think it was my father in law. You see, Sunday, January 18th was the 4th anniversary of his death. He died about 2:30 a.m. (even though this happened at 2:30 p.m.). It also could have been my mother in law. She was a neat freak and cleaned her cats box several times a day. Sometimes, I think I wish she would come back and continue with that chore! I hate cleaning the catbox!
The Cheshire Ghost ((Ike.))
My ghost story wasn't particularly unpleasant. I knew the ghost well, and I'm hesitant to call him just a ghost. In fact, to understand the story, you'd probably need to know what he was like before he died. For all intents and purposes, we'll call him Ike.
He was in seventh grade when he died, a week and a day shy of his thirteenth birthday. He had always been a...disturbed child, with his parents not emotionally being there and physically abusing him. After his mother gave birth to a harlequin child, she began to believe that the child was posessing her to beat him. She would slam him up against the wall until he started to bleed, or until somebody else interfered. He came from a bad family, so nobody ever did. After his mother died and he foud her body, he was never right. He'd walk down the halls, whispering frantically about ceiling fans a cables [she hung herself with a cable hanging from their ceiling fan] and not even the school counsellor could get a coherent sentence out of him. After thirteen months and thirteen days, he commited suicide by cutting himself up. The thing they decided that made him "crazy" was not that he killed himself, but that he killed his cat first. He loved his cat more than anything. Pumpkin. He killed Pumpkin so that they would always be together.
A week after the funeral, his dad and brother left shortly after with their bags packed soon to head off to Oregon, I thought I saw Pumpkin in my lawn. It was a usual occurence, so I didn't think much about it until the painful reality hit me. I looked back, and Pumpkin was at my feet, purring and rubbing against my leg. I didn't feel cold or anything, in fact, I didn't feel the cat at all. It might have been just another cat, you say, but it wasn't. Pumpkin didn't look like any two cent cat. His fur was mostly the color of the the sunset. A red with with a kind of orange streak. His ears were black, with orange tips, and the section around his eyes were black and his face was white, giving him the appearence of a raccoon. Unsure of what I should do, I reached down. Pumpkin looked up at me with his beautiful sapphire eyes, and walked away.
I walked inside, trying not to think too much about the fact that what I just saw and heard was impossible. I did my math, my reading, my science all in silence, which is, looking back, weird. Nothing else happened for the rest of the day. After school the next day, Pumpkin was there again. And the next. And the next. But it three days after my first encounter that changed me. My cat, Phrenic, can't stand other cats. He looked at Pumpkin, the only cat he had tolerated, then at me, and tried to rub up against Pumpkin. Pumpkin stepped back from my cat, and looked at me again. It never seemed ghostly at all. It wasn't see-through, it didn't simply vanish, it just...seemed. I walked towards the cat, and reached out my hand towards it, when I heard a chuckle from behind me. Startled, I turned around quickly, but no one was there. I looked back at the cat, and it was already in the other lawn, running away quickly. Other animals in the neighborhood seemed to be watching it and trying to run after it, while the owners struggled with the leashes. The chuckle replayed itself in my mind like a broken record, the memory haunting me that night. I had heard before. But from where?
The next day I didn't see Pumpkin in my lawn, but I did see something else. Phrenic was holding something in his mouth, and try to bury it. I took it from him and studied it. It was Pumpkin's collar. I felt my head get light. His dad had pretty much thrown me the cat for me to bury. I had buried the collar with it inside the shoebox. I swallowed, figuring that some dog probably dug it up and Phrenic found the collar and was attempting to give his friend another burial. I put the collar around my wrist, and went inside. I put it on my nightstand, and went to do my homework. I was in the process of writing my math down, when I could have sworn I saw an arm near my nightstand. I looked up sharply, and didn't see anything out of place or out of the ordinary. I opened my door and my windows to let in more light.
Later that night, while I was just drifting off to sleep, I felt a presure on my bed. Figuring it was my cat, I shifted to make room. I heard the sound of breathing, and kicked a little. The pressure went on my leg. My eyes snapped open and I sat up quickly, face to face with Ike. Terror gripped my heart, and tears stung my eyes and nose. He frowned at me, and put his finger on his lips. I was overcome with feeling of grief, despair, and...loneliness. I reached out to touch him, and he gripped my hand. It was icy, but that's how his skin felt in life. He put his head on my head, and looked up at me with a smile. The negative emotions started to slide away, and I wanted to shift closer. He shook his head no, but took both of my hands in his. He didn't really speak like he did when he was alive, but I heard his voice in my mind.
"I feel better now."
His eyes, in life they had been a dull teal, were now a bright blue, filled with happiness and emotion. Tears were streaming down my face, no longer from grief but of joy. He looked at my night stand, and he...I don't know how to describe the motion. He didn't walk, he didn't glide, he just...moved. He moved to the nightstand and got the collar, and he was back beside me. Pumpkin jumped up on his lap, and Ike put the collar around Pumpkin's neck. He looked at me, with a slow, unsure sort of look. "I love you." I whispered, unsure. He smiled, and leaned over to kiss my forehead. "Goodbye." My voice was tight with effort not to cry out for him to stay, not to go away again, but he put his finger now to his lips. My thoughts cleared.
For two years I didn't see Mickey after that. I never said a word to my parents, always afraid they would think I was a lunatic. In December of 2008, I saw him again. I had been going through tough times, going through the drama of being a freshman in highschool and I had basically become depressed. One night I felt the pressure of the bed again, and I sat up, face-to-face with Ike. He still looked like a twelve year old. He shook his head, and put his finger to my lips.
"I'm still here."
With those words, everything that I had been bottling up came pouring out of my mouth. Emotions, teachers, everything. He listened to me like no counsellor ever would or could. He nodded when I was done, and shrugged. He told me that at the end of the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. He took Pumpkin in his hand, and he went clearer and clearer until you couldn't see him anymore. I thought, after he left, of the Cheshire cat. He was gone, but I could still feel his lips on my forehead.
I haven't told anyone about Ike, as you can imagine they would think I'm bonkers. I didn't read any stories like this, so I'm wondering if I'm seeing a ghost or just losing my mind. Then again, I did read all of one page of the site's stories. I don't know if there's a way that you can send me an email back, but if you could just...maybe give me some kind of link or advice or anything? I'm starting to feel like I'm honestly and truly crazy. ><
I've been visiting The Shadowlands webpage frequently for many years. I really enjoy reading all of the stories and articles. They're very fascinating, and you and all of the others who work on it have done a superb job. Anyway, let me get to the main point, although my experiences are not very dramatic when compared to the other stories I have read on your site.
I've been living in the same house all of my life. For most of this period, strange things have happened, albeit very infrequently, maybe only a handful of times each year. Primarily, I've heard noises. The most common is the sound of a kitchen cabinet door slamming shut when I'm the only one in the house. Usually, this occurs maybe two or three times a year.
Things have also been known to fall for no apparent reason. Now, I will admit that these occurences are by far the most suspect of all of them. However, the one that I'm most convinced about was the ironing board falling over last year. It was propped up at a slight backwards angle against a closet door, when it fell forward with nobody near it. That's the only time it has ever happened. If it had been completely verticle, I could more readily explain this as natural, but the fact that it was leaning backward at the time makes it harder for me to do so.
Several years ago, one of the more uneplainable events occured. My father smokes, and keeps his cigarettes on the counter in the kitchen with his lighter on top of them. We were watching the end of a NASCAR race one night in May, when we heard a noise behind us. When we went over to check it out, the lighter was laying about one inch away from the cigarette pack. No one had been anywhere near it to cause that to happen.
The most recent occurences happened over the last few nights. Twice, I've felt something like a cat rubbed up against my leg in the kitchen. I will say, however, that I'm still not ready to chalk this one up entirely to the paranormal just yet. I was wearing loose clothing, which can move easily. The only thing strange is that I've never felt that before, and I've worn these same clothes many times prior. Two nights ago, I also saw a red orb-like object in my bedroom about six feet above the floor, which disappeared nearly as soon as I saw it. Just like the cabinets, perhaps it was my eyes playing a trick on me, but that's the first time I've ever seen anything like it in my home. Anyway, the jury's still out, so to speak.
All of these I could probably brush off in one way or another, if it wasn't for two things. The first is the most convincing experience I've had in my home ever, which occured last year. I was preparing to go to bed one night and had just walked out of the bathroom into the hallway, when I felt (and heard) someone blow into my left ear. I can't say that I was frightened, but definitely startled. Also, a former co-worker (and a friend of one of my cousins) who has a fairly substantial psychic ability, commented that she saw a spirit standing behind me one day at work. She could only give a vague description (height, build, etc), but one thing that stuck out was the ten-gallon hat he was wearing. I mentioned some relatives to her, all of whom she said didn't feel right. However, when I mentioned the name of my great uncle, it felt like a match to her. I went home, rounded up some photographs, and took them to work the next day. After showing her the photos, she positively identified the figure as my great uncle. It's not surprise he would be following me. He had a deep love of history, a passion which I also have. Regrettably, he died when I was only about six years old, so I never got to talk with him. His only son died in Vietnam, and he and his wife were devastated as a result. Perhaps I remind him of his son, and he's drawn to me as a result. I can't prove that, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me.
I have had other experiences, but these are pretty much confined to sensations of chills running down my spine and other typical physical reactions that people have when spirits are supposed to be present. These sensations occur with great frequency, at least several times a week. These are the only experiences that occur regularly. Also, my cats will stare at apparently empty space for no reason, suddenly turning their heads to look at something that caught their attention when there's nothing there.
As of now, I have no conclusive explanation for these events. I don't know who or what is responsible, and honestly don't have any intentions of finding out unless it becomes necessary. Who knows, perhaps all of these can be explained naturally, and there's nothing to any of it.
In closing, I will say that I have a strong belief in the supernatural and in hauntings. However, I will also say that when it comes to paranormal occurences, I try to be rational as well, looking for any natural explanations before jumping to conclusions. I admit that in most of these cases, I'm undecided as to whether or not they are truly supernatural, and likely will never really know. The only two that I have extreme difficulty explaining away are the lighter being moved and my ear being blown on. Again, I realize that my stories are not nearly as remarkable as many of the others I have read, but I just thought that I would share them.
Again, thanks for all of the work that you, Dave, and the rest of the staff have put into the Shadowlands. Y'all are extremely dedicated to it, and it definitely shows. Y'all have made it by far one of the most interesting and informative websites on the internet.
Even though I am terrified of
this kind of stuff, reading stories and watching things on tv about it is very
interesting to me. I have a story to share. It is still very fresh to me even
though it has been many years ago that it has taken place. My husband and kids
laugh at me when I tell them my story just because of some of the things that
went on. They find it more humorously amusing than seriously true. This story took place when I was about 5 or 6
years old in a house we lived at in Oregon, Ohio. I really even dont know where
to begin...The house was a 2 story home that wasn't huge, but sure wasnt small.
I had 2 brothers and they shared a bedroom with me having my own bedroom right
next door to theirs. In their closet was this blue plastic hanging shoe rack
that was left when we moved in. It was completley empty except for a few
bouncey balls and metal jacks in some of the pockets. Every day we would check
these pockets becasue whenever we would empty them, there was always more the
next day! I never thought anything weird about that...it was cool finding
things in there. My room had a door that led to the closet. I never heard
anything scarey in my room, but one night my grandparents spent the night..they
Momentary possession? My ghost hunting story
One night in October of 2008, my friends, Scott, Denny, and Steve, and I decided we wanted to go ghost hunting. Scott was the only one who had experience with anything and he had seen things and had things happen to him and other people in his past groups. We started off by going to Peace Church Cemetery in where the murderer Billy Cook is buried. We were equipped with a video camera (me), a digital camera, a digital voice recorder, a 'heavy duty' flashlight (Scott), and two smaller flashlights with the other two people. We walked around for a little bit as Scott instructed us to let our senses take hold of us and guide us as they please; if we got an impulse to do something, do it. We had all had weird feelings, but eventually realized we weren't going to find anything here. We left, deciding to go somewhere that Scott had had experiences before: the Waco Cemetery. Once we got there we said our opening prayer and made our way out into the cemetery. Eventually we split into two groups, me and Steve in one, Scott and Denny in the other. Steve told me to get a couple of specific things on video, he thought he had seen something he said was best described as a specter, with a head that shaped into a point and a cloaked, black body. We walked around for a bit longer and he told me he had seen it again. We walked toward the area he saw it and didn't see anything. We met back up with Denny and Scott on the other side of the cemetery and Scott started talking about the things that had happened to him here. He had been asking questions and talking in general trying to pick up some EVP. He started talking about what he called the 'prankster' that had slapped him in the face, and possibly put scratches down his friend's back. We made our way back to the center of the cemetery where there were no graves, just a patch of grass. We stood around and Steve told the other two about the 'specter' he had seen and where he had seen it. Around that time, Scott said, "lights out." He took a couple of pictures, and the rest was silent. Then we turned our lights back on for a few seconds, before Scott repeated his order of "lights out." This part gets a little blurry, I can't remember if it was before or after we turned the lights back on, but Scott is a BIG guy, wide and tall. He 'fell' backward onto Steve who would have fallen on me had I not moved in time. He had fallen hard. He layed there and just looked confused and his face was red. His glasses had flown off on impact of the fall. He asked where his glasses were. Then he asked, "Did I fall?" We tried to explain what had happened from each of our perspectives quickly, as we were pretty freaked out since this was our first experience. He asked a couple more times as the rest of us came to the conclusion that he fell too hard to have just fallen from a loss of balance. I, for one, think he was pushed by some force. Anyway, we got him up to his feet, he looked around, and said "We're leaving." Scott was shaken, and that was all we needed to hear. As we walked back to our cars to say closing prayer, Scott started coughing, which progressed to dry heaving. We had eaten Hardee's before we went to the first place, so we knew that he had something to throw up. We stopped to wait for him, and after he felt better we proceeded to walk to a space between the cars to say the prayer. Scott began, "Our Father which art in heaven-" and was interrupted by more dry heaving. Steve said, "Scott, are you okay?" He nodded and said, "Hallowed be thy-" and cut off to dry heave some more. This time it was so bad that he lost his glasses and was down on his knees coughing up something that wasn't there. He looked up, straight at me, and gave the most evil glare I have ever seen. I immediately recoiled in fear, with tears forming in my eyes, I asked "Scott? Scott, are you there?" He got over this fit eventually as Steve said, "Hallowed be thy what? Finish the prayer Scott. You have to finish it." Scott straightened up a little and hoarsely started to finish, "Hallowed be they name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth as it is in Heaven." He had another small break for coughing. "Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our tresspasses--" "What Scott?" "As we forgive those who tresspass against us" "And lead us not into what? Scott, say it" "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us--" "Deliver us from what Scott?" "Deliver us from evil" At this point Scott has regained his composure enough to finish, and says, "For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen" As we each followed with a thankful 'amen' he said, "Now lets get the hell outta here!" I was ahead of him in parking, so I started the car and drove out of the cemetery as fast as possible. We stopped into a church parking lot up the road. Scott got out of his car and we started talking about what had just happened. He claimed to have no recollection of falling or anything after that. That's the story of what happened in southwest Missouri on a late October night. May you form your own conclusions, and I hope you enjoyed!
Bread and Pizza Ghost
I have felt the presence of ghosts and some places I have been or lived at. I have never had the experience of seeing a ghost but I can walk into a place and tell if there is a ghost there. I know if it is a male, female or child. I have seen dark shadows but not all have been black. Some are gray like the color of a rat. One night a very good friend of mine came over and we were watching a movie and eating pizza. I saw the dark outline of a male child peeking around the corner of the kitchen. I told my friend Dawn who is very religious. At first she didn't believe me. I kept seeing the outline of a head and shoulders peeking around the corner. Then about 5 minutes or so later we started hearing a scratching noise. I told Dawn that's the ghost. She said it was just a mouse. Then, I heard a loaf of bread fall on the floor. The bread is kept on the counter far back next to the microwave. I got up to investigate. The bread was laying on the floor but had no holes in it from a mouse. I put the bread back and went back into the living room. Dawn got up to get a class of soda and when she went in the kitchen she yelled. She said the loaf of bread moved across the counter and dropped on the floor at her feet. She started praying. Every time she stopped praying you could hear scratching noises. She kept praying and the scratching continued. Then it got quiet. We finished the movie and as we were talking we notice the lid on the pizza box which was propped up started to slip down. Instead of just falling down it closed. This was very slowly. Dawn said she had had enough and went home. She took the pizza and box home with her. She called me later that night and said the ghost followed her home because her bread was constantly sliding off the counter and she actually saw te pizza lid open when it was closed in the box. She said she threw the bread and pizza box off her balcony and prayed really hard. She didn't have any more problems and our bread stayed on our counters after that.
My Grandpa(ghost story)
When I was 4 years old,my wonderful great grandpa,Micheal,died.I was devistated.Then,'bout 7 years later,I had just finished taking a shower when I saw my granpa,clear as day,pointing to the bathroom with his arms crossed.All I could say was "What the heck was that?!"That's when I smelled it.A pugnent burning smell coming from the bathroom .I ran as fast as I could there.turns out I left the space heater on.To this day , I still believe my grandpa came to save me and my family.Thanks for listening.
It was just this Summer. I was up on the computer, trying to get over my parent's recent divorce. "1:45 AM" I muttered to myself, trying to hide tears. While staring at blank chat rooms, I heard a voice. Small at first, the louder and louder. "Maddy. Maddy. Maddy." It called to me.
I started breathing harder, afraid to look away from my computer screen. Finally I did. Another, frightened, girl just about my age looked back at me. She had shoulder length, light hair, and was a transparent white. She smiled at me, mouthed "I understand." And dissapeared. Frightened, I turned back to my computer before hearing a single voice say "My names Jamie, by the way."
Jamie has kept her appearances to a minimum but I still feel her presence. She has really made me feel better.
When I read your article on Alcatraz, I had no idea that it was that haunted. But while reading the stories about 14-D, something slipped into my stomach. I looked at my pictures of when I went, and the room I felt a presence in was one of them. I took it upon exiting the room so I would remember which one it was. I thought I would tell you about it.
On a school trip to San Francisco in 2007, we went to Alcatraz. I was really excited and had a great time learning about it, even though it has an awful history.
However, during the tour in Block D and room 14 something felt strange. We were taking pictures and going into the rooms for fun. Nobody would go into the last one because they claimed, "We'd been in others--its probably the same." I wanted to go in because I had just barely caught up with my group and hadn't been in the other cells yet. I convinced another girl to come in with me.
Smiling, thinking "This is awesome!" I entered the dark cell. After five steps, it got chillingly cold and I was wearing a jacket. I turned to look at the door, and it felt as though something was behind me. When I turned to look at the corner the presence was coming from, it intensified 100-fold. I don't know how I knew, but there was definitely something else in that cell with us. "I think we should get out of here," I said to my friend, even though she had barely entered. She took two more steps, looked into the corner behind me and said, "Oh my god. Do you feel that?" That's when I grabbed her hand and bolted out of the cell as fast as I could.When I asked my friend, "What did you think?" She said, "I'm really freaked out... None of the other cells were like that." And I was freaked out as well; we both held onto each other for the next ten minutes because we were both shaking. Even remembering it now, I get the chills and my heart races.
Guess it really is haunted! Thanks!
Flint, Michigan haunting
Where my daughter use to live there was always
hauntings in the basement. the house was built on an indian burial grounds, at
night she could not go down the basement at all. i had tried several times and
each time it was like an extreme push to make me leave. I felt very scared and
I am not a person who feels scared. My
grandma owned the house years ago and there were newspaper articles found in
the walls after her death tht showed she was part of the KKK in
My grandfather was a member
Another story I have heard takes place in peters township in washignton county. I have been told by an old football coach whos family lived in the town all their life dating by to the 1700's I believe. He tells a story of and old haunted railroad tunnel. Close to hidden valley road in the area. Its said that many years ago when the railroad was a busy place a man was hooking up two boxcars. The boxcars then rolled together putting the man in between the two hook ups. The man was cut in half from the two boxcars. Many people say they have walked the tunnel holding hands across the tunnel very late in the night. They said they have seen a man walking at the other end of the tunnel with an old oil lamp in his hand swinging back and forth. They say a train can be heard off in the distance but no train even came. This story has been known as "boxcar willy". I have heard this story from many different people in the past. I have seen the tunnel myself one night with 2 of my friends we held hands going across the front of the tunnel. We all then saw a very small light at the end of the tunnel. Never went to check it out but something was there. We all saw this light it may have been something off in the distance but I believe it was boxcar willy we all felt something very weird that night. Thats why I get the feeling something was there.
I hope you look into these two stories for the fact that I know the truth of this as well. Stories are one thing to me I like to know the truth if you might have any answers. Thanks for taking the time to read these stories. I hope to hear something from you.
This story happened in the 1940's. One summer evening my Granny Dawson sat on her front porch peeling potatoes, trying to stay cool while she got things ready to cook supper for my Grandpa who was working in the field that day. Granny had both the front door and back door open only their screens where shut. Granny's heart jumped when she suddenly heard the back screen door slam! she sat still and listened, and this is what she heard, small foot steps walking in the house, like the pitter patter of babies feet. Granny heard the foot steps wonder all around inside the house going room to room, and finally she heard the back screen door slam again! Granny gathered her nerves and opened the front screen to go in side, slowly walking and looking around the house, when Granny reached the kitchen, she dropped the bowl and knife she was carrying, because there in the kitchen floor lay a pair of her own deceased baby boy's walking shoes.
Lincoln Memorial University
I graduated from L M U in 1979. The story of the lady in the red dress is true at Grant Lee., however there is another story of young pianist that practiced every night in the upper left corner room back in the early 20's. He suddenly died one night. His room, which was on the 2nd floor in the middle facing the campus, at times at night a light comes on even though there was no power to the building then. Yet when you went and checked it out the light was off . I have wittnessed this several times with security. In what used to be called East dorm(girls dorm) on the second floor in one of the utility closets there is a tombstone, that was found when building the dorm. They tried to get rid of the stone several times even as far as breaking it to pieces but each time the tombstone found its way back. to this day the tombstone is still there in one of the utility closets.
Haunted Hardware Store
I live in a small town south