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True stories of the weird, supernatural, ghostly and bizarre!


Directory of Stories

Jinn vs. Allah
A Touch Of Evil
Beyond The Pale
The Last Goodbye
The Ghost Of WN-90
A Summer's Tale
Summons For A Demon
It's Always There, Waiting To Get Back In
A First Hand Ghost Experience
Creature In My Basement
Bow Wow Wow
Spirits Of The Corn
Our Friendly Ghost
A Haunting That Made Me Leave
Pure Evil
Ninety Days Of Hell
Dreams & Spirits
Luckiest Man In Heaven
The Haunting Of The Horicon Marsh
Mysterious Neighbor
A Watcher At Bedside
Nocturnal Visitor
The Clattering Candle
The Chill Winter Night
The House That Would Not Die
Disquieted Dead


Something or someone doesn't want me to be good.
It was 1999, I was 19 and had stopped drinking and smoking weed. I had found God, Allah to be precise and just recently converted to Islam.
Before I found Islam I was breaking into cars and houses, just causing trouble and picking fights with anyone I didn't like, which were most white Australian people.
But I had changed my ways, Islam took away my racism and thirst for destruction all I wanted to do now was pray, fast and lead a life of piety.
I fell asleep after praying my first ever prayer; I had the Arabic words next to me on paper while I prayed as I had not yet memorized any prayers.
During my sleep I felt a presence on my right side, I slowly opened my eyes and saw a dark silhouette of a very tall faceless man standing by the side of my bed. I closed my eyes again hoping that when I opened them the figure would be gone.
The man was still there.
I paniced and tried to sit up but he had both of his huge hands pressed on my chest.
I called out for my mother but the words didn't come out, I then called out for God and the figure disappeared. I'm not sure how I fell asleep again but I did.
In the morning I went to the toilet and heard someone calling my name so I called back. When I went into the main room I realized no one else was in the house.
I sat down and decided to read the Quran, no sooner did I start reading that I heard a creaking noise coming from the wall behind me, I looked to see nothing there.
I kept reading for about an hour and suddenly I felt the air go very cold and I spoke out.
"Whatever you are go away I'm not afraid of you." I thought that it must be some jinn trying their best to stop me reading the Quran.
Then I heard footsteps scurrying accross the ceiling right above my head, it sounded as if someone were running on the level above me but our house is only a single storey house.
"O.k now I'm freaking out." I said as I put the Quran down.
I sat there on the sofa waiting for something to happen.
Suddenly I heard and felt a big BANG on the wall just inches from my face, it was almost deafening.
It sounded as if someone kicked or punched the wall with all of their might right next to my face. I felt that this was a warning to me and an attempt from some dark forces to push me away from the truth.
I stood up and said.
"Come and get me." I had enough and was willing to face anything and stand tall for my beliefs.
I continued practising Islam as best I could and nothing happen for a month.
In this encounter I was also asleep and could hear someone else breathing in my room, so I turned on the lights and there was no one there. As I closed the lights I saw a giant shadow of a man with outstretched arms standing in the center of my double windows.
I then opened the lights again and it was gone.
I closed the lights and the same thing happened, the shadow came back.
That shadow remained there in my windows for the next couple of weeks, I would ask Allah to protect me from evil and a few times I gestured for the figure to come down and fight me.
Well that is my only experience with the supernatural world and it still haunts me today, but although I was afraid I never feared that God was not there for me.

Submitted by J.A.D

This really happened back in the year of 1985, and I've never forgotten the overwhelming feeling of doom and evil, my heart beating very fast, and my thoughts going berserk, as if something had taken over them, inside my head.  We lived in a tiny little apartment and I'd had several nightmares while living there.  The place just had the feel of evil to it, even before "it" happened, but was all there was to it, the sense of evil.  This incident occured around the month of January:
My then husband and I, had just gotten home from work; we both worked second shift and usually arrived home around elevenish.  Same as any other work night, we had sat down to to unwind and smoke a cigarette, while relating to each other how our worknight had went.  We were huddled around the heater in our living room. Our apartment never seemed to get warm enough, as if a crack somewhere was letting in cold air. We never found the crack that was allowing the cold air in, by the way.   It was always ice cold, even with double plastic over the four windows we had.  I'd lit my cigarette and was handing the lighter to my ex-husband, when all of the sudden my thoughts became garbled, my heart was racing, and I could feel a heavy presence all around me.  I became dizzy and looked at my ex-husband, whom had a weird, puzzled look on his face. 
I could hear a whizzing sound near my ears and was finding it hard to breathe. Because the weight of the lighter was gone, I realized that it was no longer in my hand.  Suddenly, as if something took my head and physcially turned it, I found myself staring at a spot in the air, halfway between me and my ex-husband.  He was also doing the same thing, and right before our eyes,  that lighter shot out of thin air and banged to the floor; didn't bounce one time, almost as if someone was holding the lighter in their hand, and slammed it to the floor.  We both sat, while shaking and shivering for a minute or two, not speaking or looking at each other.  Hurried whispering could be heard throughout the apartment, and we were both too scared to move.  All of a sudden "it" disappeared and I could feel the temperature actually rise a bit.  We never spoke about 'it,"  as if, through telepathic messaging, we'd decided not to acknowledge "it."  We both went to bed and shook all night with fear, too scared to mention "it," and within two weeks we had found another apartment and moved.  We never had such an incident ever happen again.
I cannot convey the feeling of evilness that permatrated our apartment that night.  I'd had terrible nightmares before "it" happened, of which closets that weren't there in reality, were in my dream, and dead bodies were hidden there.  In a few of these dreams, their souls were flying out of the closets, and I was like a detective, trying to solve why these bodies were in my  bedroom closet.  I'd wake up feeling shaken and sick at my stomache.  I pray to never endure such a terriflying experience, ever gain!  Thank you.
Submitted by Mary

One of my early experiences with the paranormal came from visiting a ghost town in the northwestern USA while on vacation during the summer of 2000. Now, you'd expect a ghost town to come with the prerequisite residual hauntings or at least a spooky outhouse. This town of Garnet, Montana, had its share of rundown buildings as it nestled in a wee valley in the mountains. A gold mining town, it once held the riches of the mountain in its palm and miners flocked to pluck it from between the fingers of the hillside. It grew fat and rich for a time but when the gold ran out, so did the miners, leaving behind a hotel, a general store, small houses and large pockets dug into the nearby hills (plus the aforementioned spooky outhouses).
My family wandered through what was left of the town, along with other curious tourists, trying to get a sense of what it was like in its heyday. Imagining dirty, desperate men coming from inside a mountain wasn't difficult, what remained of their cabins told the story better than any signs the Bureau of Land Management had provided. Ruined furniture, rusted pans left scattered about filthy cabins and the feeling of failure permeated the broken walls of the houses, why wouldn't there be a haunting? It seemed as if that was all there ever was here.
I entered the hotel slowly. Once there was grandeur of sorts, now it looked like a woman ruined by too many men and not enough self-respect. Plaster flaked from the walls and heavy tables stood in the middle of the first floor dining room, looking strangely proud of weathering time and being able to show off their wounds left by drunken gunshots and the flying glass of old arguments. I followed my family upstairs to see the rooms. They were partitioned off by glass so you could peer inside but not enter. In some of the rooms, the windows were left bare, sunshine squeaked in through the dirty glass and fell onto beds salvaged from the hotel and covered with old quilts. In others, the windows were covered, dusty light shone through the boards that swallowed the glass. These rooms held what seemed to be 100-year-old garbage. It covered the floors and rose up the walls, it smelled like decay and made you want to turn away. I, naturally, couldn't.
As I got closer, my heart started to beat louder in my ears and my nose started to twitch. I felt lightheaded and wanted to run. I poked my head into the room and at once felt something rushing towards me. I am not particularly psychic, just enough to know when to get the heck out of a place! If I could describe it, I'd say it was pain, screaming and confusion coming at me all at once. I backed away quickly and my investigational gene kicked in. I checked out the other rooms to see if I experienced any similar occurrences and casually asked my husband if he had seen anything out of the ordinary. This man is as intuitive as a brick. "Nothing that a Dustbuster couldn't help" he replied.
I knew what I had felt was unusual; I tested it again before we left the building. Again, my heart raced and my nose tingled but this time there was no attack of emotion towards me. I could feel that it sat huddled in the corner, amidst the rubbish and filth, and watched as I moved out of sight and down the stairs, escaping into the light.
Submitted by Stacey Graham (

Back around 1994, I was working at a local Hospital and one of my best friends also worked there at the same time, and on the same shift that I worked. My friend, whose name was Ray, was very athletic and lived an active lifestyle which included hunting, fishing, rock climbing and other outdoor activities.  Ray was in very good physical shape, while myself at the time was severly overweight and lived a very couch potato lifestyle. So, upon examination anyone would think of me dying long before my friend Ray.
One day Ray developed a bad cold and weakness, which turned out to be a severe strain of Pneumonia. Ray was hospitalized and despite antibiotics and other medicines, he soon died. I was so shocked and saddened, it was beyond belief. How could someone my age, who was so athletic, die from Pneumonia complications. It made me realize that any of us can die, and quite suddenly, when our time comes.
About 2 days after my friend had passed away, I was sitting in a chair in the living room of the large apartment that my wife and I were living in at that time. I was reading a book, when all of a sudden I had the most overwhelming feeling that my friend Ray was in the room with me. The hair on my arms was standing up, and I was filled with strong emotion. I knew, it was my friend Ray, in fact I had no doubt at all.
I hollered to my wife who was sitting across from me on the couch, knitting. And I said to her, "Tracy, my friend Ray is here, he came by, to say Goodbye". I then said out loud to Ray,  "Ray, if you're here please show us a sign!". As soon as I said that, a long metal chain that dangled under the ceiling light, flew up into the air just as if someone had hit it with their hand, then the chain fell back down, but instead of moving or swinging, it stopped instantly, as if someone had caught it in their hand, stopping it from moving around.
I looked over to my wife, and said 'Tell me if you just saw anything!', she described seeing the chain under the light, move exactly like I had seen it. Then the feeling of my friends presence, left, I said 'Goodbye Ray', and started crying. I had no doubt my friend had come by to say 'Goodbye'.

Submitted by Robert W. Benjamin (

My mind slips back in time to my 21st year and my virgin year on the local volunteer ambulance squad. I was a young medic, looked very professional in my white and blue uniform and that silly blaze orange jacket which was designed to make me stand out like a sore thumb. The object was safety on the roadside while working automobile accidents. Of course, there is no such thing as safe car accidents.
The scheduling was in 12 hour shifts, days, nights and weekends. Amazingly the little volunteer squad kept the coverage going for the town of 4 thousand residence. At the time I rode as a medic during the night shift. Since we didn't have cots in the base we were issued pagers and sent home with a prayer that nothing would happen that evening and thus one would get a good night's sleep.
This particular night no such luck was to be had. Instead I got a rude awakening at 3 am. The tones went blaring off like an alarm clock. "Beeep, beep, Beep. Ontario, your ambulance is requested on Lake road between the intersections of Lakeside and County Line road for a man slumped over a steering wheel."
I sprung out of bed at Frank's mundane tone voice. No pitch, no excitement, just a single monotone voice over the radio. The information wasn't good. I threw on my uniform and flew up to the base. My mind raced with possible scenarios, conclusions and situations. My worst fear was a full arrest; meaning no heartbeat.
I climbed in the back of the rig and found my crew already waiting for me. Karen my blonde-haired crew chief. Mike the driver and little ole me the second medic. We arrived on the scene a few minutes later. Flashing lights dotted the area from cop cars and ambulance members who had gone to the scene and already had started CPR.
There was no time to waste. The man was lifted onto the gurney, tossed in the back of the rig and started his final journey to the hospital. The patient was beyond saving...I am sorry to say. He was an older man, with white hair and wearing a white polo shirt. His face purple and yet the body rather fleshy colored under the aid of compressions.
He was my first! The very first time I had to preform CPR was on him. His bones cracked with each compression. His color never improved but one thing did happen at least to me. I could see him sitting plain as day next to his own body, looking at it as if catching a ride. He sat next to his lifeless body as I compressed the chest and stared at his own glazed over eyes.
The entire way in he sat there, never moving and never speaking. No else could see him, no else knew was there. I didn't utter a word to anyone for fear of being branded insane. Upon arriving at the hospital the man was pronounced dead and at that point I never saw him again. My mind was still processing the information of the evening. The first CPR call and my sighting of the man's spirit.
As I cleaned up the mess in the back of the rig a young man approached us. He was visibly shaken. He spoke with a cracked voice, "I want to thank you for bringing my father in."
We gave our condolences.
He continued, "My mom works in the ER here. We didn't know it was him till you brought him in. He had a bad heart. Thank you for trying." He walked away still shaken from the loss.
My mind suddenly realized what had happened. The ghost on the rig had stayed with his own body to see his wife one last time. I rode home in the back of the rig, lights out, laying on the gurney. His final gesture of love had brought tears to my eyes.
Submitted by Rachel Cody

I believe that there are two types of ghost story, the Supernatural and the Metaphysical. Supernatural ghost stories are those that relate to spiritual phenomena whilst Metaphysical ghost stories relate to phenomena that have a scientific basis, though not defined within the present scientific paradigm. This story relates to an experience of the latter phenomena.
I was born and raised in a small country village called Hoo St.Werburgh in the county of Kent in England. My grandfather moved there from London after the Second World War to take up a job as a farm manager. In 1980 I was a thirteen year old schoolboy attending the local comprehensive school which had been built in the late 1950's alongside the main road into the village.
It was one of those glorious summer afternoons in early July when the home time school bell rang and I ran from the confines of my classroom and out into the sunlight.
This particular afternoon I ran through the playground, out through the school gates and waited impatiently by the side of the road for the long slow queue of cars to move along and allow me to cross the street.
As I stood there I suddenly noticed a large black metallic object flying directly over my head. The first thing that struck me as odd was that this object was totally silent. It resembled a small strangely shaped plane, painted black with a prominent protruding nose and was flying approximately 200 feet above my head in a northerly direction. I noticed that no-one else seemed to have seen the object. I could see other children walking past me whilst cars were being driven down the road, but everything was silent as though I were disconnected from the world.
I stood and watched with mounting horror as the object began to swiftly descend from the sky towards the ground in an arc, its trajectory taking it towards the school buildings and the playing fields. I could not even scream for my mouth was frozen with fear. I was filled with foreboding as it plummeted inexorably through space towards the certain disaster I knew was about to occur.
As it fell it began to twist slightly to the left and this caused it to pass directly over the school buildings and to crash in the general area of the council housing estate that lay behind the school. This housing estate had been built in the 1950's at the same time as my school to provide homes for families bombed out of London during the Blitz.
A second or two after it vanished behind the school buildings a massive explosion shook the earth. Huge lumps of earth were flung high into the air as an orange fireball rose up into the sky, efflorescing like a monstrous flower.
Clods of black mud were hurtling through the air then falling back to earth, as the force of the explosion began to diminish.
I could feel my heart beating inside my chest and I could not breathe with shock and fear. I thought of the families in the houses torn apart by the impact and the carnage that had been wrought. I could literally not believe what I was watching take place.
Then as I looked around desperately seeking someone else to articulate my shock too, I saw that everyone else was acting as nothing had just happened. Parents were in their cars arguing with the kids fidgeting in the back whilst other kids were chasing their friends along the pavement but no-one was looking at the horrific spectacle taking place before them.
I was shocked. Are these people so callous, I thought, that they could just ignore this terrible event taking place before them ? I turned to look back at the disaster area expecting to see a dark plume of smoke and dust lifting high into the air.
Nothing was there. Nothing at all.
No smoke, no dust, no fires and no screams of the injured and the dying.
The sky was a perfect pellucid blue, cloudless and serene.
Not even a pale puff of weary cloud drifted languidly in the sky. It was as if nothing had happened.
I looked around in total bemusement and noticed that the strange silence which had enveloped the last few seconds had dissipated and the everyday sounds of traffic, children shouting and car horns honking had returned.
I ran down the road and to the fields behind the school expecting to see the mangled remnants of a crashed plane, its crumpled cadaver ablaze and surrounded by burning houses and wounded victims.
Nothing. There was no plane, no burning crash and no victims.
I walked back to my school totally perplexed, but strangely serene as I recall, as though the event was already unreal to me.
A few years later whilst watching a documentary on World War 2 I saw film footage of a V1 'doodlebug' bomb and realised straight away that this was the object I had witnessed that summer afternoon. In 2003 I did further research and discovered that my village was part of what was known as 'Bomb Alley', the region of North Kent in direct line of fire from Northern France where Hitler's vengeance or "vergeltungswaffen" weapons were erected and then aimed directly at London.
Further research revealed that in the exact location where I saw the V1 explode that afternoon one of the doodlebug rockets had actually crashed and exploded, though during the war this area was apple orchards and fields.
I suspect that what I witnessed was a 'time slip' and that somehow I had witnessed an actual event that had occurred decades before and that it had somehow been 'replayed' to me that afternoon.
What this event reveals about the nature of time and space still intrigues me. If the past can intrude into the present, then time is not linear and we simply create for ourselves the perception of time.
Submitted by L.J. Barnes

When my wife and I were younger, we would allow friends to stay with us when they were down on their luck or in some type of transitional period. We would generally share the kitchen and let them have the basement, which allowed them egress without disturbing us too much. 
My friend Jim had been staying with us for a few months. My wife noticed that a pair of silver candle holders of her mothers was missing and went to the basement to "nose around" and see if Jim had taken them. She discovered what we would later learn to be an Altar to summon spirits. It was a silver tray with various elements,(water, earth, fire, oils ) that also contained her mothers candle holders. There was also a book that gave steps to summon spirits and warnings of what may transpire if proper safeguards were not taken.
I confronted Jim and told him that this wasn't appropriate behavior. I suggested that in the future he should ask before he took our things and he should stop trying to summon spirits and go get a damn job. He insisted that he was only trying to summon good spirits and that we would benefit from it as well since we lived in the house. I used the book he had purchased to reason with him, pointing out that it stated you had to approach these things slowly and not just jump right in and build an altar because of what you might mistakenly summon. He said he'd quit but it was just to get me off his back. Within a week I had to kick Jim out which involved me dismantling his altar and throwing everything in the street. That's when things got weird.
Later that year, my wife and I were laying on the floor watching TV in the front room. We lived in one half of a duplex with a floor plan referred to commonly as a "shotgun house" which means you can see from the front room through the dining room and kitchen to the bedroom. While laying there something caught my eye coming out of our bedroom.
What I saw can only be described as a demon. It was a fully proportioned man, naked, approximately 2 feet tall and black as ink,running at top speed from our bedroom into the kitchen, around the table and down the basement steps. I couldn't make out any features but I could see his little arms and legs just pumping. There were no sounds as it ran through but as it went down the basement stairs you could faintly hear it's feet hitting the steps. We owned a cat at the time and I dismissed it as the cat and the shadows playing tricks on me when I looked over to see the cat laying next to my wife. I tried to dismiss it but then looked over at my wife to tell her what I saw. Before I could say anything she asked,"Did you see that?". Without saying a word to her she described exactly what I had just seen. Frankly, neither one of us wanted to go into the basement and see if it was still there. From that point on, it was hard to try and brush off late night noises and creaking floors as the "house settling" so we moved.
Jim's book on spirits stated that if you rush into summoning spirits that you may unleash unwanted things that are looking for a portal into this world. I believe that's exactly what he did. When we tell friends our story they are quite skeptical and frankly I don't blame them. I only Know this. We saw that little man run through our house. Period.
Submitted by Michael K.

Guam island legend has it that the Taotaomonas live in the Banyan trees.  Taotaomonas are the ghosts of the ancient Chamorro people, some good and some bad.  I was about to meet the bad.
I lay on the couch listening to the typhoon roar outside.  The phone and electricity had gone out hours ago. The air inside felt thick with humidity. The candlelight, instead of offering comfort, only served to make the house seem more meanacing.  Outside, the Banyan trees stood like wind whipped sentinels.
Three days earlier I had been in a bad car wreck. Nothing had gone right since I'd moved there two months before.  I caught my soon to be ex-husband cheating, my Midas touch in real estate turned to crap and now I was injured, without a car and all alone in a big house that frightened me to death.  
I was excited to have found the house.  The rent was cheap and it was only two blocks from the ocean. The house was wrapped in huge windows, but even with the sunshine and drapes open, there was a dimness inside.  
One guest said he saw a woman walk through the closed wooden door of his bedroom and out again.  I scoffed at that.  But a few nights later, I saw a middle aged Chamorro lady leave my bedroom the same way.  Another night, I woke to see two small demonic creatures dressed in black hooded robes running around and around my bed at tremendous speeds.  I screamed and they shot into the closet and disappeared.  I learned later that these creatures are known in local folklore as Duendes.  They are evil entities reputed to kidnap children and have the ability to make people sick with a mere touch to the body.
Another night, while reading a book, I got a warning or rather, an attempted warning.  A well dressed woman and a man, both locals, normal and solid as any human beings, appeared beside my bed. I sensed they were brother and sister.  The man sat leaned toward me.  The woman said, "Don't tell her that!"  He started to speak again and again she admonished him, "I told you not to tell her that!"  I screamed and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, they were gone.
Then there were the little things.  Dark shadows that flitted just out of the corner of my eyes.  Things that were indisinguishable in shape and so quick you could never quite tell what they were.  Things that you laid down on the table and when you came back to get them, they were gone.
The storm raged on and I tried to sleep.  When I closed my eyes, I saw myself laying on the couch, as if I were having an out of body experience and at first there was a nurse or two and a cop or two looking down at me. When I opened my eyes, they were gone. Every time I closed my eyes, there were more of them. Their faces became more distorted until finally they were monsters that filled the entire room, surrounding me, packed tightly together, a very large crowd.  I knew this was a demonic psychological attack. 
Earlier that day,before the storm hit, I had gotten a phone call from another real estate broker who had rented the house behind mine, but had moved out months earlier.
She said, "I hear you're having some trouble." 
I said, "Yes, I am pretty messed up from this car wreck."
"That's not what I mean.  The demons are after you, aren't they?  I know because when I lived up there, they were after me, too.  They caused my husband to cheat on me and try to poison me.  We're divorcing,"  She said.
If I had not already experienced so much of what she was describing and more, I would have called her crazy and hung up. 
"So what do I do?"  I asked.
"Pray.  When they attack you, invoke the name of Jesus and tell them to leave you alone."
As I lay there that night, I had forgotten her advice, the terror was so overwhelming.  All night long, the horrible faces haunted me.  Only when the gray of dawn started to appear did they finally go away. 
Late that afternoon, after the storm had subsided, I heard a car in the driveway.  It was the woman who had called me.  She came inside with a satchel.  When she opened it there were no less than eight Bibles inside.  She asked me if she could bless the house and I said yes.  She went through the house with one of the Bibles and prayed.  Then she asked me if there were things in the house of unknown or pagan origin.  There were, all kinds of Tiki dolls and other pagan statues I had purchased during my travels around the world.  We cleaned the house of all of them, put them into a bag and when she left, she took them and threw them into a river. 
After she left, I was again resting on the couch, wondering if she had cleansed the house or had possibly stirred things up even more.  Night was approaching, dread of what might come sat in the pit of my stomach like lead.
There was a decorative marble plate sitting on the wooden tv stand.  Suddenly there was the most brilliant, beautiful blue spark that ricochet off the side of the plate.  The house became brighter and the mood inside was lighter than it had ever been. 
As soon as I was physically able, I moved. 
The evil follows me wherever I go, it's always on the periphery of my world, waiting for an opportunity to get in. 
Submitted by L.S. Evarist

As a single parent raising four kids during the recession of the mid 1980's I was stressed and worried to say the least. Like so many I was forced to leave my home due to steep interest rates that made it untenable to stay. Luckily for me and mine we found an owner finance of an older home not too far from the new custom home where we had lived. The kids would get to stay at the schools they knew and loved and it was a settled neighborhood with steady residents. Everything seemed promising enough.
From the very beginning things got strange. As my brother, who was living with me at the time, and I painted, cleaned carpet, and moved in, we were looking forward to enjoying the new home. My daughter made friends quickly with the next door neighbor's daughter and my three sons played with the boys of the other family on the east side of our lot. The fact that a graveyard stood right across from our back alley didn't seem any cause for concern either. After painting, cleaning, and moving in we settled down for our first night in the house. This had been a particularly cold winter so far and we were glad to have gas central heat, but tragedy almost struck. On the second day after firing up the heating system as we worked, smoke began pouring out of the vents. The furnace had caught fire! Luckily we shut off the gas before the house ignited. We called a repairman the next day. That should have been a hint.
The neighbor's daughter who had been invited to spend the night got up suddenly and went home before morning saying she couldn't sleep there. She had told my little girl that she had been friends with the people's daughter who had lived here before and had sold us the house. Their little girl had been killed in a bus accident during a school field trip. The neighbor's girl pointed out to my daughter the outline of a young female was embedded into the wood grain on her bedroom door. At first I didn't believe it until I looked. It was uncanny. It appeared like the silhouette of a young girl. I tried not to let that cause alarm however.
My sons were having their friends spend the night on weekends. Having three sons meant having someones kid over just about every Friday or Saturday night. What we began to hear from the kids disturbed us. My oldest son's best friend claimed that as they laid in the sunken living room of the house that he watched a red eyed entity sitting on my Lazy Boy lounge chair. He described it as dark, cloaked in a black robe and menacing with piercing fiery eyes. He said all he could do was hide his face under his blanket as it remained in the chair glaring at him as all the kids lay asleep in the room.
I remarried a couple of years later to a woman who had two sons. She had shared custody so we would bring her two sons over to spend weekends with us. Yes, we had a full house but plenty of room. Her youngest son, a bright and funny kid, told us that one night as all the boys slept in their favorite place, the sunken living room, that he saw something go running across the floor. He said that it appeared to be a black dog with glowing red eyes. There was just one problem. At the time we did not have any pets so there hardly could have been any mistaken identity. He too complained of a presence in the living room that haunted him as he tried to sleep. Now we began to come to the realization that something out of the normal was going on. I must admit that during the days as I would go about writing or doing paper work in my bedroom office since I was self employed, that more than once my skin turned to goose bumps as I sensed a presence like someone walking down the hallway outside the bedroom when all the kids were still at school. I chalked that up to my imagination. At night however, I had been awakened several times to the presence of a dark towering figure in my room standing over my bed. I could sense it in my dreams then I would awaken, but thankfully it would be gone. It got to be a chronic problem though as time wore on. A combination of hard work and exhaustion seemed to be the only thing that would allow me to overlook these nocturnal visitations though.
I guess the final confirmation of what was going on came when I would start to feel my bed vibrating while I laid in it. It was a very nice king sized bed that my parents had given to me and had been very comfortable. Even as my second wife stood in the room watching me one day I could feel the bed begin to vibrate noticeably. She witnessed it, felt it, even got into the bed, and finally believed me after I had told her about it before. There was no doubt that something paranormal seemed to be going on.
Being a single parent of four kids, working long hours and weekends, and having soccer games, football practice, and ballet to get all of my kids to pretty much overwhelmed any consideration of inviting investigators in to take readings and such. The manifestations though unnerving did not seem overly malevolent. So we just coexisted with these odd occurrences until we sold the house. An older woman bought the home from me, but ended up moving out soon after, which I thought was rather strange. She lived alone and had two small Pomeranian to keep her company, but didn't stay long. After that I had no time to further keep up with the house and it's bizarre occupants.
Submitted by Doc Vega

I've had three obvious encounters with something that seems to live in the basement of a house that I live in. The first in the mid 90s was the least noticeable and may have been the result of always having so many lights on in the middle of the night. At the far end of the basement along the wall to the bathroom, there used to be a crib full of dolls that my sisters liked to play with. With each passing night of walking by the harmless dolls, the big 3 ft. doll took on more of an angry expression which seemed to follow me as I walked by. It got fearsome enough to change things to the point where less light would be used around them during nighttime. The second time during 2004, I noticed the creature was in it's original form. Again, it was sometime in the night where I noticed a light coming from an upstairs window. I ran up the stairs to see why my foster mother had the light on and quickly realised she already turned it off and went back to bed. Knowing this, I spun around to go back down the steps and clearly saw a 4 ft. tall humanoid creature that had only a clear outline since I could see right through it. As soon as I saw 'it', 'it' bolted straight for the furnace room where there are always dark corners unless one used a flashlight. After running back down the steps to the furnace room and turning on the single light bulb, I looked all over and saw nothing but felt a presence. Even after coming back in there with a flashlight, I found nothing and yet still had a feeling it was in there somewhere.
My last encounter with 'it' later that year was during the height of the day. There were lots of birds and squirrels outside in the yard dining upon some food that had been put out for them. Therefore, I decided to play some Beethoven in orchestral form from a speaker connected to the computer so as to entertain them while I took a nap. Within a few hours I awoke slightly from my slumber to the sound and feel of fierce pounding upon the door and went back to sleep when it stopped. When I had fully awakened, the speaker was clumsily knocked off the dresser where it faced the window. "Whoops, hope it's not broken."
Couldn't help but notice that it was very quiet in the room and that the middle of the wire to the speaker had been cut. Also, there was a set of four claw marks on the lower part of the wall near the door that were 3 inches long, except for the third one which went further by another inch and slightly off to the right. It starts almost touching against each line and then is separated by a centimeter as it tapers off. There are still some nights when a presence can be felt watching as I go up the stairs.
Submitted by CST

It was mid evening in July when my husband received a text message from one of his oldest friends to please give him a call,our friend it turned out was leaving the country with his family that night and heading to France and then off to North Africa to live and since we might not see him again, he asked that we come over to see his family one last time.
Mustafa my husband's friend lived in St.Augustine, Florida in a small townhouse. Even though the phone call happened around 8:00 pm and we have a small child ready for bed we packed our car and headed from Jacksonville for the 45 minute drive to St. Augustine for them to say their final goodbyes.
When we arrived we sat in the living room and had tea and spoke of the past and what the future would bring to his family in a new place, I was sitting on their couch facing the front door when all of a sudden I got very cold, goose bumps rose on my arms and a smell of aftershave so strong it nearly sickened me arose from the left side of my body, I asked Mustafa's wife, do you smell that?  Both of our husbands were outside at the time having a cigarette, she was in the kitchen making more tea and  when she came out and took I whiff of my arm she nodded yes I smell that and said to me "you know we have a ghost don't you? He has been here a long time. It is an old man, she said, he is harmless".  She then started to tell me of the time when she had been home alone as her husband was overseas, she was pregnant and she had climbed up on a step stool to remove something out of the cabinet in her kitchen and slipped and started to fall but something perhaps the ghost of the old man had kept her from falling.  I told her that is an amazing story, but why does he have to smell so bad for? 
As we drove back to Jacksonville around 1:00 am, I started talking about what had happened  my husband told me to just forget about it, but the smell of the aftershave was still on my arm, I went home and jumped in the shower and still could not get rid of the smell till the next day, it just disappeared.
 Almost a month passed and Friday evening I was sitting at my computer when my 2 year old daughter called out for something to drink, so I grabbed her cup, filled it up and headed off down the hall towards her room, she was sitting at her table and her poppa was sitting on the floor next to her, she was watching her favorite Wiggles video and they were singing a song about Wags the dog, as I bent down to put her cup on the table, a cold chill ran up my spine, goose bumps arose on my arm and the smell of the same aftershave hit my nose and in my ear I hear "bow wow wow" in a deep errie male voice, right along with the chorus.
I quickly stood up and felt like I was going to pass out, like something had just went thru me, I grabbed the wall to steady myself and my husband asked are you ok your face is white as a sheet? I told him did you hear that, he said yeah I thought you were singing in a low voice to be funny, I told him no that was not me, I think I we just got a visit from Mustafa's ghost and he likes the Wiggles!
Submitted by Yvette M

When I was going to college in the early eighties I would have to drive from Eastern Illinois University to Monticello Illinois to go to my dentist. I would have to drive on the north side of Monticello via the new Interstate highway 72 just west of Champaign. This Interstate was only about 5 years old at the time of this encounter which was the summer of 1980.
As I remember it was a very beautiful balmy day probably July. I had the top down on my old convertible driving north west of Monticello on the new Interstate highway 72. Unexpectedly I saw a boy and a girl standing at the edge of the Interstate on the right side of the road. At the time I thought it odd for them to be standing really in the middle of nowhere and so I stopped to see if they needed help. When asked if they required anything they just wanted a ride and pointed straight ahead. The girl sat in the back and the boy took the front seat. The boy was about 13 or 14 years of age and the girl was maybe 9 to 11. They were thin and pale looking. I do not remember the girls hair as much as the boys because he was sitting right beside me. His hair was either black or white and it was spotted like a cow, it just was not a solid color and his eyes were a 50% gray. Both of them had really white skin. In the early eighties you had Joan Jet and Billy Idol and I figured that these two were just some punk rockers. 
I continued my trip south, as the boy pointed straight ahead down the Interstate. We then pulled off at the first right heading west. With the stereo playing tunes the boy just kept pointing to his destination. We again turned right and headed north driving through mature corn fields. I realized that they were much more involved with riding in my old mustang than carrying on a conversation. Neither talked at all and the boy just kept pointing straight ahead. Well we ended up turning right again. We were headed east down a dead end street at this time. The Interstate had overtaken this particular rural road.
After about another quarter mile the boy has me pull over to the left at an old, neglected farm. There just was no one living here as the grass was over a foot tall and the driveway was overgrown. This tired small farm house was sitting off the road about 60 feet to the north with the driveway on the left. No cars, no foot traffic, no flowers, absolutely jungle like. Most of the windows were broken out and it had a sagging front porch. Both were kind yet they had no emotions. After the children stepped out of my car and stood along the driveway did I notice there clothing. They had the 'Little House on the Prairie" look. Both wore oversized baggy white shirts and pants. No pockets that I could see. Their shirts had large puffy white gray sleeves with strings to tie around there v-neck collars. Their pants were again oversized puffy white gray and I would not be surprised if they had ropes around their waists. I can't remember what shoes they wore. They were void of any color at all. Totally black and white, standing in front of a green squalid farmstead. Waving goodbye, I was thinking that no one could live in this dump. I felt sorry for dropping them off here. Later on I realized that these two children probably walked a quarter mile from this house to the new interstate by walking east. I think they just wanted to go for a ride in a car. I never thought until years later that they were probably spirits of the corn.
Submitted by Samuel Tucker

My wife and I have been living in our house for about 17 years now, but we don"t really talk about the ghost. I have seen this wisp of a shadow that just races by the window and back door of our house. I sit in the living room watching TV at night and the kitchen light is on and in the corner of my eye I see something and turn and wisp it is gone. So I decided if l see it again I'll turn slowly and look at it in the corner of my eyes without really turning my head. So one night I saw it again and sticking to my plan I saw a man in a hat and coat looking out the back door doing nothing.
Over the years we just jokingly called him George Or Fred. One Saturday I was in our finished basement kneeling on the floor with a can of screws on the floor looking through them and this shadow came over me; thinking it was my wife just coming down to see what I was doing I said "WHAT!!??" and looked up and there he was..And when I laid eyes on him he vanished and with that I said "What do you want?" My wife asked "Who are you talking to?" I said "It was Fred." She said jokingly "did he answer?". But this is what has been going on over the years. I'm not scared of him he has not harmed anybody. I had this dog that that would bark down the steps and sometimes in the kitchen. I guess he saw him too. BUT just last week I saw him again and said "hi GEORGE!!" And with that I heard him say for the first time "JOHN!!" but not angrily. So I guess his name is John.
Submitted by C. Gallagher

It was 1983, I had just gone through a trying divorce after finding out my traveling husband had had an affair. That left me with my daughter, Courtney to care for. I was having some feminine problems and seeing a doctor as well so times were difficult. I absolutely loved the house I lived in. Perched on the slope of a wooded hillside close to Little Rock, Arkansas, it had wonderful railroad tie terraces all around it. This house had always been a great place to enjoy nature and unwind in with many panoramic windows that viewed the exquisite Arkansas countryside. The seeming paradise did not last long however.
I began having a number of strange dreams in which dark figures cloaked in robes holding glistening knives that glinted in the darkness would be standing at the foot of my bed. Looking like Monks, they bowed before me baring their long knives out in front of them. I awoke several times in the night, terrified. There was also an uneasiness in the house that began after my divorce that I could not account for. Sometimes odd lights would appear and float in the darkness. I had so many problems with my health, work, and emotional stress that I just chalked it all up to nerves and the emotions that gripped me at that time. So, I just endured it all, occasionally going out on a date, but most of the men I met were jerks.
Everything came to a head when one night I had that frightening dream again, though this time I felt like I was in real danger as though I was going to be sacrificed! There they were with their knives threateningly held above their heads when I screamed and woke up gasping for breath, but there was another sound coming from the other bedroom. It was my daughter squealing at the top of her lungs. I raced to her room. There she was standing on top of her bed, tears pouring from her eyes, and she was in hysterics! I grabbed her little body and comforted her as best as I could. After a while when she had calmed down and I'd gotten her to drink some water, I asked her why she had been awake and so scared. In her own words, Courtney described the same exact dream that I had been having! I was convinced that our lives were in jeopardy!
I did some research trying to find out about the history of the land in my residential area and uncovered evidence that Spanish explorers that had settled in the region many hundreds of years ago had commmitted attrocities against the local Indians. It seemed that there was historic records that supported that conclusion. That was enough for me.
I immediately put my house on the market, took all my savings, gave my employer my notice, and I moved to Plano, Texas and found a nice builder's home that I did not even have to qualify for. I just made a down payment and moved in.I got a job managing a jewelry store and in a couple of years I happily remarried to a man I'd met in church. I guess you could almost say that a haunting led me onto the path of a better life. I will never forget that terrible night that led me to leave Arkansas in fear for mine and my daughter's lives!  
Submitted by P. Faulkner

Thirteen years ago I was a part of a prayer circle along with some friends & acquaintances; there were about 20 of us. We'd get together in a meeting hall that had a ring of old chairs in a circle. A nice lady would start & guide the meetings with us. On one occasion, she brought her beautiful, gentle, Rottweiler dog with her. The dog's name was Hallow.
Before the prayers started, Hallow came to each person in each seat to greet them personally, tail a-wag. She was petted by each of us in turn, then she went back to her mistress's side. We all stood up & joined hands to pray.
Not long into the prayer, something happened; my blood ran cold & all of the hair on my body began to stand on end. Something made me look up and to my left just outside of the circle. I saw  a being that was transparent like a ghost but it surely wasn't- it was a demon. It was seven-and-a-half feet tall of pure evil, with skin literally as black as tar. Its yellow, glowing eyes were looking straight at a woman to my right. A low, dangerous growl began emanating from Hallow's throat- she could see him too, & wanted him to leave!
Hallow's owner was amazed- "Hallow, what's wrong?!" she asked. Then she said to all of us, "She never does this!". At this point, the demon left. The dog & I were the only ones that saw it. Until now, I've told no one.
Not long afterward, the woman that the demon was staring at dropped out of our group & acquired a crack habit. I've felt ever since that I had seen nothing less than Satan himself.
Submitted by Deianera

This story is a story that I would rather not say is true. It  was in 91 that we moved into our apartment. It was also the longest 3 months of my life. In a city like Orlando Florida, you'd think of  sunshine and Mickey Mouse. That isn't what always comes to mind for me anymore. We moved into a small , two bedroom apartment,.My husband 10 month old daughter and I. It had just enough room for us,  was a bit dark ,but I assumed it was just the direction, and layout of the few windows and glass doors. When I look back now I realize the place was just dark, and all the windows in the world wouldn't change it.             
Since I was at home with my toddler I had plenty of time alone to enjoy our new place. That's when it started.  
Even the first week , all the telltale signs , I ignored , because it doesn't really  happen to NORMAL people. I went grocery shopping  the next evening ,but by the third day I started to find the unusual. Grabbed milk from the refrigerator.. spoiled.  " I must not have checked the date," " is  fine..spoiled " I said to myself. Refrigerator temp was perfect. Later that day  yogurt, cheeses, spoiled.Even fresh vegetables spoiled in days. The little pantry with fresh potatoes and canned goods, began to have an odor by the end of the week, our food was spoiling at lightning speed.  Those were the first clues.       
Maybe I should have noticed when I put  baby bottles on the counter, left the room and came back to see them in the corner of the room. Even leaving the room laying a book down on a chair open ,only to find it on a different chair closed. It was the little things that made me second guess myself.         
Then night terrors began for both  of us, having dreams that would wake us  in cold sweats. We talked about them  and assumed that stress had us exhausted. Days later, the noises began. The wall directly behind our bed had  low deliberate scratching.If you could follow sound with your eyes, the scratches were  feet long at a time.        
One evening  we had just gone to bed, we began to talk of the strange things missing and disappearing all day for me, when a loud banging began down the hallway. Both of us jumped and ran towards it. Directly before reaching our daughters room was a utility closet containing a  water heater and storage area. It had a decorative aluminum shutterlike door.  It was shaking itself. He and I looked at the door ,afraid to make contact with it ,for fear of letting something loose. The scratching that sounded like giant claws began 
Again, if you could see the sound, it began at the  bottom dragging to the top ,continuously. I was afraid of seeing glances of whatever was making the noise through the shutters. Throwing the light on in the hallway thinking things would be all better we turned to the door. Seeing the door shake, bend and rattle was worse. This was in front of us and undeniably real. My husband ran to our bedroom, grabbed his shotgun,and stood in front of the door. Panic stricken I yelled over the noise " What are you really going to do with that ? shoot the door? " "Ready?",  he said. I acknowledged his plan and stood aside protectively in front of our daughters bedroom door, as he reached for the handle. Throwing it open, he jumped inside and hit the light all at once in midscratch of the sound. I screamed as he lunged in to the Nothing. Nothing. There was nothing in there. In silence and disbelief we stepped inside and searched the small area. Closing the door behind us and looking, we saw thin grey scratch marks on the inside of the door. Shaken , we walked out of the room, checked on our daughter and replayed the scenario  to one another trying to come up with an explanation. There was only one.        
That was one of many things that happened there, and the disturbances got worse, luckily no one  ever got physically hurt. We would return home at times, to see the outside door light  flickering , as if teasing us and warning us as we walked down the pathway towards home. We didn't want to return to it, and it seemed to know.            
After experiencing a black figure fly down  from ceiling  towards me as I walked into our bedroom one evening , I refused to get dressed alone or be alone there again.      
We found out that the adjacent apartment had been not only vacant , but was kept that way, for storage, for undisclosed reasons.  We moved in, and out within 3 months.  I have  since looked up our old address and wanted to write a letter , asking those people that live there now if they experience the same , but if they don't, would they want to know the things that happened there?  Would you?  My family and I are happily residing now in Pennsylvania but ,I always look over my shoulder in the mirrors and sometimes I wonder    
Submitted by Michelle-Lea Welton

At the age of 17, my best friend moved into newly built suburb. Over the course of three months, I began to notice his neighbor coming and going from his residence. He was in his 50's, quiet, reserved and not a particularly friendly individual. If I said hello to him, the most acknowledgement I would receive was maybe a head nod. After a while, I stopped trying to be cordial and no longer noticed his presence. Those brief encounters were the extent of my total interaction with this person.            
One night I had a very disturbing dream (to say the least). I dreamt my best friend and I were having a riotous party with many people and copious amounts of libation. However, to make matters strange, the party was at the above-mentioned neighbor's house. During the party, the loud revving of a street racer motorcycle interrupted the atmosphere. I made my way through the crowd to the front door. There was a young man, late teens, tearing up the sod in the front yard by making a stationary "donut" figure with the back wheel of his bike. He had on a skid suit complete with a visor helmet. Suddenly the young man leaped of his bike and came towards the entrance o f the house. He threw aside his helmet and began yelling my name. As goes the detached nature of dreams, no one else in the party seemed to notice this guy stumbling around, calling for me. He then walked towards and embraced me. He held on to me tightly and then began sobbing very hard. The young man was inconsolable. Finally, after a moment he stammered in my ear "I'm so sorry, I'm just so sorry, please tell my dad I love him and I'm sorry." He was so repetitive in his message that I had total recollection of his statement to me after I awoke.            
I felt very uncomfortable and fearful that night due to the seemingly nonsensical yet vivid imagery of the dream. I just chalked it up to just another weird dream experience. Some time later, while with my friend, I nonchalantly related the dream to him. I still clearly remember the startled look on his face as he stopped cold in his tracks. "Are you kidding me!" he asked incredulously.            
What he recounted next froze me to the ground and caused my hair to stand on end. Apparently, my best friend's dad had a more genial relationship with the gentlemen next door to him. The man had sadly told my friend's father that his son had passed away about 3 years ago. That, in and of itself, is not necessarily odd but, unbelievably, the man's son was killed in a motorcycle accident while intoxicated! What made this truly a fortean event was the young man wrecked his bike on the way home from a party!            
Now say what you will; something extraordinary happened. Obviously a skeptic will say that perhaps I had overheard the father speaking of this tragedy and my subconscious cued the strange dream later (and so on and so on). But rest assured there was zero discussion about any of the details regarding the neighbor's personal life, not to mention it would have been entirely inappropriate. For all I knew, this man simply lived alone with his wife.            
To this day, I still shudder when I think of the sudden upheaval of emotion I felt upon di scovering that my dream, incoherent as it originally seemed, was a possible encounter with a spirit from beyond. I am a reasonable and logical individual, yet this occurrence completely defies any explanation I can conceive.  
Submitted by BEN

This is a first hand account with no embellishment of the night my father-in-law passed away. As traumatic as it is to lose someone close to you, may our experience give everyone hope that there is peace in the afterlife:
My father in law was losing his battle against cancer and my wife went to the hospital to be at his side in his last hours. Although my son knew his grandfather was sick, he had no idea that this night would be his last. As the hours elapsed I continued with the mundane jobs of the day and entertained our kids. I stayed up later than usual worried about my wife and waiting for her to call. My younger daughter had gone to sleep and my son who was sleeping on the couch awoke and wanted to go to bed.
We lived in the house my wife grew up in, a house my father-in-law owned for nearly 50 years. He had poured his heart into this place with all his projects. We began turning out the lights and I noticed one of the basement lights was on. It happened to be my father-laws old workshop. I asked Patrick to run downstairs and turn out the lights while I closed the garage door. When I came back into the house Patrick was standing in the back hall wide eyed. I asked him what was the matter.
He responded, "There's someone in the basement!"
My heart started pounding and in the moment between fight and flight I asked, "Who is it?"
He said, "It's Grandpa.....He went like this." Indicating that Grandpa had run his hand over his head. 
Not expecting that answer but allowing my morbid curiosity to take over, I responded "What did he look like?"  (knowing full well what he looked like hours before in the hospital.)
Patrick said "He's fine and he's smiling." 
He then ran into the sun room, jumped on the couch, covered his face and said,"Grandpa's dead" and began to cry.
Sometimes it's better to just sit there and say nothing and that's just what I did. Fifteen minutes later the silence was broken by the ringing phone....
Submitted by Fond Memories of Bob

On a hot sweltering morning, in the Mojave desert, in a little homestead, in a little living room while lying on a roll away bed surrounded by his family my father died. It was a double tragedy for my mother who just that morning had lost her little Chihuahua of eighteen years.  The same amount of years she and dad had been retired. 
A general sense of depression overwhelmed us all as my twin sister and I sat sampling birthday cake on this our fifty third birthday.  Irony was not slow in treating us once again three days later to another coincidence. Suddenly it dawned on us that the cemetery, where my father was being buried, was named the same name as the  dirt road that ran in front of His little house. Desert View, a road He and Mom were asked to name many years earlier.     
Mom sold the old desert view homestead to a young couple, about a year later, They began interior renovation.  Soon thereafter strange things began to happen. Lights would turn on and off, the toilet would flush, the t.v. would turn on and objects would crash to the floor. These strange doings went on for a little over seven years when one morning in January my Mother suddenly and unexpectedly died.  Days later the young couple, who now owned the house, related to a mutual friend that all was quiet, lights, toilet, and objects were stilled.  
About three days after my Moms death as we family members again sat in the desert view cemetery in Victorville I began to remember, as a young child, watching Dad competitively race motorcycles across this very area where He and Mom now lay. As my attention returned to the present I heard my Brother giving his eulogy for mom and in part he said "today my father is the luckiest man.... "
True enough, I thought, but as the day went on and as I thought about what he had said I am sure I would have added Heaven to the end of that sentence for, in the intervening years, I have been visited many times in dream and in waking hours to my now reunited and happy Dad who I am sure is "the luckiest man in," his new home, "heaven."  God bless you both Mom and Dad. Love, Jack and your loving family.
Submitted by Jack Gaston



I grew up in a haunted farmhouse overlooking the Horicon Marsh in Wisconsin. I can still remember autumn days, with bare branches brushing the horizon like webs of black lace, wild geese see sawing through moody skies, and the scent of burning leaves full and rich on the wind.    
It was during this time we had the most paranormal activity.  When the October moon rose full and orange and pregnant, long dead Native Americans would rise out of their burial mounds on the edge of the marsh to ride amongst the world of the living on their painted Indian ponies.  
More than once we were jolted awake from a dreamless slumber as we thought we heard the dairy cows stampeding through the farm yard. By the time we raced out of the house and into the eerie glow of the harvest moon we realized the sounds we heard were not cows but the snorts and whinnies of horses. More than once we stood in awe as we watched a paranormal procession of long dead Indians gallop past us. Even now a chill on spidery legs walks down my spine as I remember those phantoms staring at me with long dead endless eyes. Often they would circle around the house for what seemed hours until the sun of morning turned them to mist, their yearly mission once again complete.  
And so the years passed, with my brothers and me marching up the creaky old steps to our bedrooms upstairs. On cold winter nights the wind would gnaw at the windows like a living thing. Its icy breath invaded the rooms seeping into everything.  
We huddled deep in our quilts of feathers and told each other stories about ghosts, hauntings and of course, Eddie Gein. Ed Gein was from Plainfield, Wisconsin and was the inspiration for Alfred Hitchcock's demented character Norman Bates of Psycho fame. That very same Ed Gein was now incarcerated at the prison in Waupun, just west across the Horicon Marsh and a mere six miles away from our farm.    
In the fall of the year, my grandfather would drive us by the old Gein homestead whenever we went to Plainfield to buy potatoes for the coming winter. It is hard to imagine that such a sleepy little town, average in every way could have something so  evil festering just beneath the surface. The only strange thing about the place where Ed Gein once lived were all the crows that flocked where the house once stood. Crows, cousin to the larger and more glorious raven, are intelligent creatures, but these seemed even more so. They looked at us with their knowing beady black eyes, as if they were sizing us up. Could they have been the souls of the dead come back to roost? Certainly Ed Gein's mother did not rest easy as Ed dug up her corpse along with other older women in the Plainfield area. Just like Norman Bates, the real psycho, Ed Gein, was devoted to his mother, and could not live without her.  
No one really knew how many graves he desecrated in the end, but it was quite a few. He would bring them home and skin them, and fashion furniture and lampshades out of the skin, and even wore the skin of females sown together like a bizarre suit.  
Finally, he went on a killing spree, killing two local women and beheading them, and then hanging and dressing them out in the basement, as if they were being butchered like deer. This last, bizarre, insane act is what bothered my brothers and me the most, as we grew up with deer hunting being a normal part of our lives. We knew how deer were hung upside down with the head removed so the blood would run out. After that the deer was gutted and left to hang before it was butchered for meat. It did not help matters either that Eddie Gein brought the livers of the butchered women to his neighbors for a pot luck dinner. Enjoyed by all I might add!   After that we never ate liver again.  
I used to lay awake at night, looking out the west window of my bedroom into a whirlpool of stars. They glittered hard and cold in a setting of lush velvet blackness.    
I can still remember hearing the lonely whine of the train whistle, as if it were the last thing in the world living. Huffing across the marsh tracks deep in the dark, wondering.  if perhaps Ed Gein had escaped from prison,  hitched a ride on that train, and was coming closer and closer to our farm. Perhaps he would jump off just before he got to the edge of the marsh and turn down our cow lane.find his way to the barn and from there to the farm yard, and then.who knows? Anything was possible, after all it was not unheard of for prisoners to escape from the Waupun prison, and they almost always headed for the Horicon Marsh first before the went anywhere else.  
My brothers and I had nightmares for the rest of our childhood. The nightmares were always about Ed Gein finding a way out of prison and into our lives. We lived in terror that we would be his next victims, with our livers on his dinner plate.   Finally Ed Gein died, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. 
I think we even slept soundly for a while, until we started scaring ourselves all over again, thinking that perhaps Ed Gein would come back from the dead and get us that way.   In the end, nothing happened. I guess old Eddie Gein is sleeping peacefully in his Plainfield grave.   As for the spirits of the Native Americans, well, perhaps they are still there! I hope so.
Submitted by Carla H.

In the spring of 2006, we got a new neighbor.. right next door, a man in his early 40's with an autistic daughter. He was obviously struggling, so my teenage daughter began helping out by babysitting the little girl, age 4, a few days a week during the summer while he worked. We are Christians, and it bothered my daughter that the litle girl would spend the better part of her day watching spooky ghost video cartoons; however, the girl was autistic, and if this kept her entertained and quiet, it seemed to me, best to leave things alone. I did mention to the dad that the movies made my daughter uncomfortable. One day, a friend came over to stay with her while she babysat.. they came running out of the apartment mid-afternoon, I noticed a pentagram, a perfect pentagram, on my daughter's forearm and I said to her,'Why did you do that to yourself?'. She insisted she did not do it but that it showed up on her arm all by itself in that apartment. Her friend acknowledged this. It was n't a scratch really, but the skin was raised and red, very weird (it went away by evening). Her friend's father showed up and said he would take them to his house.. and seeing the mark on her arm he said "I don't want my daughter going into that apartment again." I brought the 4 year old to our apartment and watched her for the rest of the evening.
When her father returned home, I questioned him as to his religious beliefs and asked if he was involved in witchcraft of any sort. He denied witchcraft, said he was a Christian also, but that his grandfather had been a Cherokee Indian medicine man or something of that nature, and that he was aware of some issues there. He mentioned that he had experienced various things also. He said he knew there were ghosts around him, but that he had some sort of agreement with them. I thought this was weird but what could I say.. I said, 'OK, we'll pray about it.' I am pretty sure I told him he should get rid of the ghosts, that Jesus would help him with that if he asked. I told my daughter she should continue babysitting and trying to help. The guy obviously needed some help. We felt sorry for him. The 4 year old, now 5, really was a handful.
A few weeks later my daughter absolutely refused to babysit anymore. She claimed that she was hearing animal noises in her bedroom (at home) at night, and that on 2 occasions she had seen ghosts in her doorway. She was afraid to turn her lights out at night. My kid has never been afraid of the dark, never. I hadn't seen any ghosts, but I have to admit, I had been hearing strange noises in our generally peaceful house. So anyway, I tell the neighbor that he needs to find a new babysitter etc.. I watched the girl a few times myself in the interim, strange things would happen when she around, she would say some very weird stuff for a 5 year old autistic kid also, and it gave me the creeps too.. so after a week or so when he found someone else we didn't speak very much. I was happy to just be a quiet neighbor. But we never stopped praying about the situation. And we continued to have strange things happen in our house, right next door, things would fall off shelves, my daughter w ould hear strange animal noises and was still afraid to shut the light at night. And there were a lot of flies, lots and lots of flies. We had never had a problem with bugs before.
School started in the fall. The little girl went off to a special kindergarten program, a bus would pick her up and deliver her home. It was around February.. A LOT of strange things were going on.. many things falling down in our house all the time.. the sound of footsteps at night and no one there.. we started praying really really hard for Jesus to get rid of the ghosts, and to help the people next door. One day the bus came home with the little girl and the bus driver waited and waited and waited but the girl's father never came for her. He was home, I knew he was home, I had seen him come in earlier and his car was out in front. I went out and said to the bus driver, 'let me see if the door is open and maybe I can find him, maybe he fell asleep'.. the front door was unlocked, I went in and he was laying on his kitchen floor quite dead. He was very blue. I didn't a take a good look but turned right around and said to the bus driver 'Call 911'.
Anyway, he died, mysteriously. Family came and took the girl to another state.. our house is peaceful once again, and my daughter is not afraid to turn the lights out at night anymore. We are quite sure the Lord Jesus protected us from something very evil there, we are very sad the man did not take a stronger stand for his own life but allowed these spirits to mingle in his home. We pray that in the end, he did go with the Lord.
Kind of weird, a stray cat we had never seen before appeared the next day and took up a position under the man's car until the car was towed away a few weeks later.
Another neighbor later told me her cat would hiss and growl whenever it saw that man walk by.
This is a true story.
Submitted by Susan in TN


I am writing an account of my experience partly because my son submitted a splash art to the Halloween splash art contest trying to depict my description of the event. He did a wonderful job, but I don't think anything is ever going to come close to what I saw!   I'll try and keep this short, as the events leading up to my main experience goes back for months. Suddenly , when I would be asleep at night, I would be awakened by a horrible feeling, I would lose all control, it is very hard to describe. Like something was rising, or trying to get me, and when it would I would just have to suffer through it until it let go. I know I sound crazy. I don't have the words to describe what it felt like.  I would be aware of my surroundings, and I could hear what was going on around me, NOT DREAMING. I would be fully awake and aware and could only wait till it passed.    
For instance , once I went to bed early and my husband was still watching a movie in the living room, when I suffered an "attack", I could fully hear what was going on two rooms away, the movie playing, his cough, everything, but I was unable to do anything to call out to him. At first they were small and quick, each time leaving me fully awake after it passed. I would really wonder at what in the world it could be. Finally they began happening with enough frequency that I finally mentioned them to my husband. He was startled and said to me he thought they sounded like seizures. He was concerned and told me I needed to see our doctor. I was very embarrassed at the idea of trying to describe what I was going through, as I was afraid I would sound like a nut. This was mostly because they (the attacks)had changed a little, and a few times during the experience I felt for all the world that I was being lifted into the air, and could actually feel the inertia.   This to me , was a disturbing turn. I would fight and try SOOOO hard to speak or move or get my husbands attention. Mostly they would occur when I was alone in bed, but once or twice he was right next to me. He sleeps like a rock.  
The last straw was a Saturday morning. My husband had to be at work by 6am and I had to be in at 7. He left for work at 5:30, as it was a bit of a drive for him. I remember falling back asleep. Then one hit. It hit so hard and fast I remember thinking , Oh my God, this is a bad one. I fought tried so hard to do anything to resist. I could do nothing but lay and suffer. Slowly , while I was suffering through this, I began to realize that my head was slowly being pulled to the left. Slowly and painfully like moving through molasses. I was wondering the whole time "what is going on?" When my head was turned and I could see the side of my bed, there standing right beside my bed, right up against it-- was a man.   His eyes were looking dead straight into mine. His hands were folded neatly in front, almost resting on the mattress. (My bed is a sleigh bed, with a really thick mattress, and is very high.) He was wearing ( I am embarrassed to say) a dark long gown/cloak, with a hood. (Not very original I know, but it's what I saw.)
His face was very white, but not bone. He had skin, but very tight. His eyes were ALL black and without emotion. His expression was , almost a detached quizzical expression.   Upon seeing him, my mind just fragmented. I had many thoughts all at the same time. I was terrified. But at the same time I distinctly felt my stomach become so nauseated , I wanted to vomit so bad. My brain of its own accord, (best way to describe) actually said " I don't want to know that is there" I also had the distinct thought, that "he is just watching me go through this". And slowly , I forced my eyes away , which is exactly the opposite of how I would think I might react to seeing a man/thing next to my bed. Suddenly the thought occurred to me to pray.
I am Catholic by upbringing, so I began a prayer to the Blessed Virgin Mary (sorry if I offend anyone, its my belief.) No sooner had I said the first few words of the prayer, than I suddenly heard a CHORUS of other voices pick up with me, happy, excited, encouraging voices that said the prayer word for word and louder than any sound I had ever heard. Its like someone turned up the volume for the first time. I didn't know sound could be so clear and vibrant. I remember listening in awe, and every thing melted and stopped. I was exhausted and fell asleep.
I have no sense of time, but sometime, I awoke again, and it was coming again. This time I felt myself once again rising from the bed. I hated it, it was a horrible sensation, and I remember thinking that I REALLY need to go to the doctor, just let me get through this. And I don't remember much, I was getting so exhausted. After it passed, I fell asleep(?) again.
And then a third time. The last time I could hear my cat, (a large male black cat who is very attached to me and is very expressive) hitting my door and meowing sharply. He has the habit of throwing his body against the door when he is earnestly trying to get my attention, like if he hears noises outside,or if there is an animal in the back yard. This is what he was doing. I felt so bad, because he sounded very alarmed, but I couldn't utter a sound, or move or do anything. I don't remember much after that. When I woke it as past 7:30 and I was late to work. The rest of the day I was sick. I was felt very thick and slow. I had a horrible headache and anytime some one spoke to me, I found myself having to ask them to repeat themselves. Not cause I couldn't hear them, but because I just could "get" what they were telling me. In short, I ended up going to the doctor after that morning, about a week later.
He immediately suspected seizures. They performed a series of MRI's to rule out any possibility of scar tissue on the brain, or tumors. Nothing was found. I had to do an EEG, but nothing came of that either. I was so embarrassed at having to describe what was going on, ( I never did tell him about the man) I was even more embarrassed when they couldn't find anything. When the doctor who was still concerned suggested I see a Neurologist I drew the line, with promises I would consider it if I found the issue to be getting worse or bothersome. I have often wondered what could be the answer. I am certainly not against considering that these were seizures, and actually I was so convinced that is what they were. And was really worried about the possibility of brain problems like scarring or tumors, and relieved to think I wasn't a nut or fruit cake. But not a single night goes by , ever that I don't think of that man/thing I saw. Every time I lay down, I think of him and worry I might ever see him again. Seizures? A night visit? Demonic in origin? I don't know, but I think I will ponder it for the rest of my life. Seeing him/that  was one of the worst experiences I could ever imagine. It was very hard to go through, words will not describe it.
Submitted by Anonymous

It was in the summer months in the middle of a warm Northwest night. I was having a bout of insomnia. As I lay in bed beside my spouse, an unknown young girl of about 12 or 13 enters the bedroom and sits on the end of the dresser. She starts to examine my Spouses exposed jewelry. With the night-light from the Dinning Room, I could clearly see she is a Caucasian with medium length blond hair and she is wearing a white T-shirt, cut off blue jeans with tennis shoes. Immediately from experience I doubt this young girl is performing a hot burglary alone! I would bet on at least one older male of approximately 18 would be her accomplice. I start quietly fishing on the headboard for a can of pepper spray. At the same time attempting to quietly wake the wife & make her aware of the intrusion. I also wondered how they got by the dogs in the kitchen without them sounding the alarm. We had a Husky sleeping in the bedroom. He had some unusual traits. When meeting someone, instead of approaching & sniffing he would sit down about 6 feet away, and look high at the person's head. He would appear to be reading their aura. Suddenly the Husky awoke stood up turned 90' sat down & looked right at the girl I had been observing. Poof! Suddenly she just disappeared into thin air! I found it hard to believe something with such a real world, physical appearance could just vanish. The Husky lay back down & resumed his position as he had been in before the interruption. The hair on my head had that funny feeling & my Husky's reaction to the intrusion seemed to reinforce that what I observed was real, and not a figment of my imagination. Could the Husky Kiska tapping into the aura have short-circuited the appearance of the nocturnal visitor?
Submitted by Amoure Orian Kelly

In 1962, aged sixteen, I spent a weekend with friends I shall call Joe and Tom, at Joe's parents' vacation home in the primeval African bush above the Umtamvuna River separating Natal and Cape Provinces in South Africa.
Tom was old enough to own an ancient Austin A4, and we drove down the thirty miles.
The weekend started out rainy. Coming down the final river valley slope on a dirt road full of pot-holes and deep, slithering mud, we took a left up a narrow track, over a small knoll and were at the front door. Above, arching boughs of giant African Wild Fig Trees enclosed, like the nave of a natural cathedral, space large enough for three or four cars. We exited warily, you do not step onto African ground without first checking for snakes!
We entered the house, set on the hill-slope, designed and built by Joe's father, a builder by trade. Big glass doors gave onto an open-plan top floor with kitchen on right, staircase to down-hill side on left, ahead a vista of large and generous, plate-glass picture-windows opening onto primal African bush all the way down-slope to the muddy river in the distance. Under the windows, wide window-seats holding within spare bedding for guests.
The staircase wound downstairs anti-clockwise past a large rock in the hillside, too big to move or dynamite, decoratively bulging out the wall to remind you this was a holiday house, with all subliminal implications of rough camping, but in a wonderfully hospitable setting! The stairway narrowed past the rock and onto a lower-floor, narrow passageway, out of which doorways led off to right and left to the many rooms of the large family. Halfway down to the right, the door to the bathroom.
We hid our rifles under bedding in one of the lockable window-seats and Joe put the key behind a can of mixed vegetables in a kitchen cupboard. We then made a perfunctory lunch and hurried to the river where the family kept a boat.
After horsing about all afternoon on the river, we returned to make supper. Joe looked to see if the rifles were safe, and as he reached for the key, uttered an exclamation, : the can in front had been moved away! We gathered around and stared. It was so! But checking showed our rifles were safe! Who had moved it?
Joe looked uncomfortable and finally admitted the family "had noticed things were sometimes a little odd in that house" ... and we, well knowing Africa and its hauntings, shuddered with thrill, shrugged, and set about supper of, if I remember correctly, baked-beans-on-toast, washed down with a glass of milk.
Afterward, we decided to go to a local hotel 15 miles away, where on Saturday nights guests were treated to a movie shown in the hotel lounge -- this was a Big Deal! -- there were not many movie-houses there, almost fifty years ago!
In Tom's puttering old car that barely made it uphill, through the dark, wet African night, skidding in ruts and dropping into muddy potholes, hoping we would not get stuck, occasional lights of far-flung farmhouses showed as pinpoints, all too far away for comfort.
Arriving, Tom told the cashier some tall tale of coming up from across the border under unimaginable hardships and the kind woman gave us free tickets. I don't remember the movie, except it was of course in black-and-white.
Returning under pouring rain, rifles still safe and can not moved, I went to take a shower. The gas-lighting downstairs had not been turned on, the Coleman lamp in the kitchen was for the upper floor.
Towel and candle in hand, I descended. Looming rock, downstairs floor spookily silent in pitch darkness. Narrow passage, barely-discernible open doors. Natural caution said : Be careful! Acutely aware of the absence of a dog, who would have known if there were any intruders.
Carefully, I dribbled wax onto the handbasin and firmly stuck my candle upright, I wasn't about to make any mistakes! Upstairs, Joe and Tom noisy in the kitchen. At least that!
Through the shower-curtain, the candle's soft glow reassured me. As I finished my cold shower, the candle I had stuck so firmly was violently knocked off the basin. It did not fall of itself. It was knocked away with force ­ Ker-POW! Listening, it rattled about in the basin more than it should have had it simply fallen. Light gone. Joe and Tom were playing a joke on me! ... but they were still laughing and yelling upstairs.
The curtain hung, dark. I listened, sniffed the air -- nothing. What was on the other side of the curtain? Someone with ... gun ... or knife? Surely they would have struck when the light went down?
Or ... was there a ... Presence? My hair stood on end. Would a thin, luminous tendril of ectoplasm come ... creeping ... around the curtain and a chill fill the air? Would a ... Glow ... coalesce into a leering, luminous face with pointed teeth, like in a comic-book?
I whipped the curtain aside -- nothing. The hair on the back of my neck was still standing. I developed anger, determined to fight whatever it was, man or ghost.
I stepped from the shower. From the passage outside, I got the impression of a presence, flutteringly withdrawing, confused and startled by my reaction. I regained the passage. From its farther, black recesses, I felt Something, watching me.
Walking with my back to it, I approached the stairs. I spun around, nothing.
Or did I feel sorrow, something longing for company, only the quenching of the light allowing it to approach closer, seeking a warmth it had not enjoyed for eons, unbearably saddened and misunderstood and now left destitute again, to spend its existence lonely in all Eternity?
Feeling ghostly eyes on the back of my neck, I went upstairs.
This is a true story of perhaps the only time in my life I might have seen a real ghost.
During the winter of 1969/70, I worked at Frankfurt Main Airport in Germany.
I lived in the tiny, picturesque village of Schwanheim, (Swan Home), a few miles away through the dense, dark, German forest.
One bitterly cold winter's night, coming off work at 02.15 in the morning, I boarded the company bus that took late-shift workers to our various destinations.
As we emerged from the forest, I asked the driver to drop me at the crossroads on the edge of town. I did not want the bus to pass down the little street where I lived and awaken its sleepers. On this night, the older part of the village, along the forest's edge and to where I lived almost half-a-mile away, was simply far too lovely and peaceful, its old-style, homely little German wood-and-brick houses too gently restful under their mantle of snow and a cold, starry, winter sky, for me to wish to disturb that peace that seemed straight out of a Brothers' Grimm fairy-tale.
Also, It was a beautifully clear Winter's night under twenty degrees or more of frost, and I wanted to enjoy the walk home, a quarter-mile or so along the forest to my left, and then a right down another quarter-mile of old town to where I had a room with a wonderful German family.
The first leg of my walk was backed to my right by the loveliest little old wood-and-brick German gingerbread houses, each with its tiny garden lovingly tended behind a carefully-painted wooden picket fence.
The night was so still, I could hear the hissing of the old gas-lanterns under which I passed, set on ornate, century-old, cast-iron lamp-posts. To my left, across the narrow road, loomed the dark, always-mysterious forest, all whitely hung with blades of hoar-frost that occasionally broke and fell, tinkling, through leaves and the thick, tangled, thorny dense undergrowth at the forest's edge, now all frozen bare and solid by grim Winter's grip. Their broken-glass tinkling was counterpointed by the quietly admonishing, hissing of the lamps. I breathed deeply, exulting in my frozen breath on the so-still winter's air in the sleeping little story-book town.
Suddenly, around fifteen paces in front of me, a white, long-sleeved shirt, facing me full-on, shot out from between two houses on my right, swaying in its passage through the air, over the picket-fences, and on across the street, at the speed of a running man. I wondered where his legs were, and also, why no head? How had the runner jumped the fence? -- and why ­ and HOW -- was he running sideways, facing me full-on? And why in Heaven's name in only a shirt, on a night like this?
These thoughts ran through my head within the first two paces the man would have taken ... if it had been a man ...
Within a microsecond, my brain had solved the puzzle! -- it was obviously only a man's white shirt on a washing-line, being run out on one of those European washing-lines, an endless loop with a little crank to string washing across streets and alleys, like you see in Italy. The next microsecond told me : this is not Italy! -- this is Germany! -- and who would hang out washing on a night like this? -- and there ARE no washing-lines across a public street -- at man's height!
Fine! -- said my brain, -- it is a giant seagull, flying sideways to me, wings vertical
-- and my brain came back? -- Seagull? -- here in the middle of Germany, on a cold winter's night? -- and sideways?? -- Oh, no! -- this is a light! -- someone behind you is shining their flashlight from right to left across the wall in front of you! -- WALL?? -- across a public road?! -- ABSURD!
By this time, less than two seconds, whatever that shirt was, fluttering and softly glowing a pinkish-blue phosphorescent white, it had crossed the street and was flitting through the frozen tangle to my left ... without a sound ... as though the brush were not even there at all. -- What?!
Running forward to follow it, I found myself stopped by the tangle. I saw the shirt a few dozen yards away from me, fluttering and glowing and rapidly receding at the speed of a man running fast between the forest's trees and expertly zig-zagging to avoid them while making no sound at all. It grew more distant and then was only a thinly edge-on sliver of pale, shining white, finally disappearing entirely between trees at a range of I guessed around 300 yards. I watched for a while, but it never reappeared.
I was not frightened, only intensely curious : Was this some newly-liberated soul escaping its mortal shell, confused and frightened, perhaps, by its freedom and, lost, careening off into the night like the proverbial wailing banshee? Or was it some still-living sleeper, dreaming deeply as we all do, of taking steps that become longer and longer to finally lift us off our world altogether like a balloon, to amaze the few in the streets looking up to notice us, and wondering what we might do with our newly-found abilities? Or was it some unhallowed, restless spectre of grim ages long past, rising from its tomb again to some unimaginable secret tryst with its own kind or on other un-dead mission incomprehensible?
I listened to the hissing gas-lamps, the falling frost, and decided it might have been some sort of warning to me to take the other road instead, so returned to the dark crossroads, and walked home the other way.
To this day, I have no explanation at all for this incident, only that it happened, and that it happened to me.
Submitted by George Paxinos

At nine moths old my family moved to the country into a huge old Victorian mansion that sat on a small hill all by itself, moreover it had no paint on it, at least not much that one could see. The house had no insulation in it making it cold in the winter, filled with howling drafts, and rattling windows furthermore when the wind moved so did the ancient house.
The old Queen Anne style mansion with all the gingerbread trim and large bay window in front of the house looked like so many other old Queen Anne houses the movies always show as being haunted. Perhaps there is a reason they depict them that way.
I must interject here; the house did not have a mansard roof as in the movie Psycho. No that is a psycho house not a haunted house. This house was the typical looking house with a balcony. Yes haunted appearing as if the house itself was watching you.  All my friends as well as myself were sure that it was, at least when I grew up enough to know anything.
I never told my parents how scared I was of the house while living there.. The house that would howl and sway when the wind would blow and the trees scratching against the chattering windows would make me feel cold and frightened of what I did not exactly know. Nonetheless, I felt it was ominous.
I had reasons, I felt, to have menacing feelings.  My room the only one without a door on it in the house was on the second floor right next to the staircase that had thirteen steps no more no less just thirteen. The house had thirteen rooms if you counted the three in the third floor where seldom anyone would venture. In fact, there were thirteen steps up to the top floor as well. To add to the number thirteen the phone number on a rural telephone exchange was 5F13. Thus to this house of 13's the phone number was also "13".                                                                                                           
When I went to bed at night, I hated when prayer time was over, not so much because it was over but because my mom would leave me alone in the dark. I could not even leave my room light on, because it would burn out almost as fast as one could put in a new light bulb.  Mine, was the only room in the house that had the problem, and even electricians could not find the answer to this phenomenon.    
I would whine, begging my mom to stay with me then I would not have such a hard time getting to sleep at night. When mother would ask why I had such a problem sleeping, I could not bring myself to tell her the real reason. I was not sure Mom would believe me or she would poohoo my fears.  The real reason I wanted Mom to stay with me was, the footfalls that would walk down the hallway past my room and stop at the top of the steps. It would then go down a couple of steps and wait, then a couple of more and so on to the middle of the staircase. Then it would start back up the way it went down the stairs, and again walk past my room as if to go up to the third floor but then just a little beyond my brother's room it would fade away never opening the third floor door nor walk up the steps. It would merely die away.
Numerous times, I had gone out into the hallway to turn the hall light back on to see if I could see anything, but alas, there was never anyone there. Moreover, when the lights would go out the footsteps would make their way back down the hallway if they had not fulfilled their nightly routine before. It was at this point I would cover my head with the blankets leaving just enough room to breathe. I knew if I told anyone about what I heard, I would hear the words that I was just "dreaming" or, "there are no such things as ghosts". I remained unconvinced. I was positive I knew better.
Thus, I laid there waiting silently to hear the footsteps walk the hallway with no visible sign of a person to go with them. Indeed, it was a ghostly haunting.
Each day everyone left this house to their respective schools, I was nearly always home from school before anyone else. Mom taught high school at the nearby. My Dad was a superintendent in a town about 15 miles away.  It was to this cold foreboding old residence I returned home after school and stayed there alone. or would get permission to go visit someone after school so Mom would know where to come and get me.
We moved out of the old manor when I was about 13 years old. Later some other people tore the house down. When I was in college a friend and I decided to drive over to the old place and just see if there was any odd phenomenon  still happening after all these years. Thus at about the time the ghost used to walk we drove over there, near where the old house sat. My car died. Stopped dead and would not start again. I admit I prayed and told the Lord if he allowed it to start, I would never ever return there at night. Immediately the car started and I never returned again at night .
Submitted by Connie Hull

My friend laughed when I told him, "Oh, there are ghosts all right!"
Spirits of the dead that have not crossed over, dark shadows and hollow noises - they echo up from our basements after midnight, drifting in and out of a spectral wasteland of disembodied, nameless energies-trapped in a landscape of forgotten souls just outside our ability to touch and see-in a lonely place some call the astral plane.
It was a Friday night in late October.  I was searching the Net looking for words like 'paranormal' and 'hauntings' when I found an article with photographs of a ghost sighting - a ball of light above a tombstone 94 in the old Germantown Methodist church cemetery near my home outside Memphis. 
I did not know the graveyard is haunted-but it was no surprise - with burials from the 1820's, and unmarked Civil War graves.  The hilltop was the scene of bloody skirmishes.  Soldiers who once struggled to seize that hill now lie buried there. 
McVay cemetery is hidden in an ancient oak grove, high above street level and passing cars.  Many of its tombstones have been stolen and vandalized giving the place a lonely, sinister and depressing look.
I told my wife what I found.  "That's it!" she said.  "We're going ghost hunting there-tonight!" 
Minutes later, we parked near the ancient church and skirted the parking lot to avoid attention from passersby.
Before entering the graveyard, I read the bless ing, asking Saint Michael and Saint George for the white radiance of protection and commanding all energies and spirits who might inhabit the place to remain and never follow us.
Stepping from the modern parking lot into the shadows of the old trees and unmarked burials is like stepping into a different world - a world about which we know little but speculate a lot.
It was quiet this night - nothing moving - no sensations. After an uneventful hour with lots of pictures and EVP recordings, we called it a night.
A day passed and night returned. Still yearning for an encounter, with a clear sky, pleasant temperatures and nothing better to do-we returned. 
Entering the darkest area in the oldest part of the graveyard, I stopped.  My wife went ahead to take pictures of an old family plot.
I stood motionless watching her.  All was quiet, save for an occasional car a block or so away - no wind and the night air was crisp and calm.  As she read the tombs tones, I watched standing as motionless as the old stones themselves. 
Suddenly and without warning, I felt something slide up my left leg.
"Must have fallen from my pocket," I thought. 
However, I realized immediately that in my haste I had forgotten my cell phone, keys and wallet at home.  My pockets were empty-completely empty-nothing to fall from them!
In an instant, I felt something move again - not just a heavy falling object but also something that had moved both up and down the outside flank of my left shin.  Things fall, as Newton said, because of gravity, but this moved up first, and then fell down.
"What the hell was that?" I asked myself.  "What just brushed my leg?"  I began to panic.   
Feeling very alone, I froze.  "What was that?"  I tried to see in the inky darkness and then I remembered-no flashlight!
I tried the pale light from my camera's view panel.  Nothing.  I saw nothing.  No stick, no object of any kind. Nothing.
The ground was flat and the grass was sparse.  The exposed earth was dry, hard and compact. There were only a few scattered leaves. I snapped a photo to examine later and see if I had somehow missed something-and later I saw in the photo that the ground around me was completely clear.   
The sensation of something heavy, rubbing against my left shin-that weird, hard brushing motion - all happened20in less than a second or two. It was not a light touch, but a definite, purposeful movement, almost like unseen fingertips rubbing against the outside of my lower left leg.
"This ain't right," I thought.  "Not right at all."
As I straightened up and stood there-frozen to the spot-suddenly I felt a heavy tapping -t ap, tap, tap on my left shin! 
Three hard taps on my leg in the dark of the cemetery - as if by the tip of an unseen bony hand - tapping right where I had just felt the bizarre brushing sensation. Three firm, distinct, intentional thuds - as if an unseen, ghostly hand had reached up from an unmarked grave to get my attention.
This was no twig, no fallen branch, no late night cemetery bunny-but three strong, sharp, distinct taps struck by something or someone unseen who wanted me to know it was there.
"Get off my grave!" it must have been trying to say.  How far below the ground the spook lies I did not know - a foot or two, perhaps - as was the custom with hasty wartime burials.  A short reach up my leg, maybe.
Could the spook see me, or just feel the weight of my trespass? 
Suddenly with a burst of nervous energy I called to my wife and began to chatter with excitement about what I had just experienced.
"Probably just a stick," she said, all matter of fact.   
"That was no stick," I said - and still say, knowing that bright minds seek normal explanations for paranormal events.
Some say the more you look, the more you will see and I have been back alone several times - oh yeah, I will go back again - I must - if only to find again that lonely soul who cries out to be left alone. 
"Oh, there are ghosts all right!" I told my friend again and took him there one dark night.  No thing tapped him, but we both saw the ball of light above the tombstone.  "Can we go home now?" he asked.  He stopped laughing after that.
Submitted by Runehammer