Date: Mon, 12 Feb 1996 20:48:26 -1000
To: ghost-stories@netcom.com
From: chips@lava.net (Jerry Monti)
Subject: Haunted lighthouse
I would like to share with you an experience that I had several years ago while working on a lighthouse on lake Superior.
Standard Rock Light House is located on a shoal about 30 miles from the nearest point of land. it is constructed on a hollow cylinder of concrete reinforced with a belt of steel . which rises about 30 feet out of the water. It has not been occupied since about 1961. It was in this year that a fatal accident occurred to the lighthouse keeper and his crew. Somehow the kerosene tanks that fueled the fog signal exploded, what followed was a fire so intense that it actually consumed part of the stone structure. the only way that some of the crew survived was to hang over the side of the structure suspended by lines. It was several days before the crew was rescued, and then only because a vessel passing at night had reported the light extinguished.
In the spring of 1993, our unit was tasked with making repairs to Standard Rock light house prior to the Coast Guard turning it over to the National Park Service. After loading the suitable materials on board we steamed from Duluth MN enroute the lighthouse, the trip over was uneventful , however as soon as we arrived at the light the weather began to deteriorate. Eventually it began to blow so hard that we had to drop the anchor and ride it out. after two days of this the weather calmed sufficiently for us to launch a small boat to take the work party over. We made the light, off-loaded our supplies, and went to work. This was about 2 or 3 in the afternoon. By 5 the weather started to turn bad again, the ship wanted to bring us back but we decided to stay the night, finish the job, and hope that we could get back to the boat the next day.
The job ahead of us was big but simple, fix what needed to be fixed, clean and paint. Each of us had a task to do, I was on the main level , several of the crew were on the top level , and the rest of the crew was scattered about. When I finished my job, I went down to the keepers kitchen where my friend Jeff was working to give him a hand. As we worked the talk turned to the fire that the had occurred at the light and of the fate of the three keepers. One level below us was the bottom of the light . When we first came aboard the light we all walked through it to check it out . This area reminded me of catacombs , one main chamber with tunnels leading in different directions. Cold, dark and damp it was not a very comfortable place to be. Around seven Jeff and I decided to take a break. I walked over to the door leading to the lower level. opened it and called down jokingly "hey George we're going up for a bite to eat , want any thing?" Immediately sounds could be heard in the level below, scraping knocking, but the most chilling were the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs. Jeff and I looked at each other, his eyes were as large as Volkswagen head lights, I bet mine were just as big. not saying a word we both raced up the stairs to the main level.
We ate our dinner, calmed down and decided that we had imagined the whole thing, Jeff related the story to the rest of the crew and everyone had a good laugh. Jeff took another job on a different level and we all went back to work. About 11:15 a couple of the guys suggested going down to the basement at midnight to see if anything would happen, I really didn't want to but not wanting to be branded a coward , I agreed to anyway. At midnight 5 of us made our way in to the basement , we called out, shut the lights off and waited. We didn't hear anything but I sure felt something , the hair was standing up on the back of my neck , I swear I could feel something moving around us. I'm sure that I was not the only one either. When nothing appeared we went back upstairs to the keepers quarters. As soon as we were all out of the basement the sounds started again. The five of us just stared at each other, until the footsteps started coming up the stairs again. At this point there was total chaos as we all tried to get up the stairs at the same time. as luck would have it I was the last in line, as I was going up the stairs I glanced back and saw just for an instant a shadow with no definite shape emerge from the basement door.
Nobody said much , we just went back to work. when we finished it was about three in the morning. we moved up to the upper level of the light and tried to get some sleep. I wasn't easy because for the rest of the night we heard everything form banging on the walls to distant moans. When the sun finally came up and we went back downstairs we found that some of our gear had been scattered around, and a garbage can had been turned on it's side and looked like somebody, or something had jumped up and down on it. I don't know what caused this, but of this I'm certain...it wasn't of this earth
7.27.2003
7.26.2003
From: Deena_Gitaitis@notes.ymp.gov
To: ghost-discuss@aurora.cdb.com
Date: Tue, 1 Apr 1997 13:00:18 -0400
Subject: Cry-baby Bridge
This story is one more piece of Northeastern folklore I've heard over the years. The actual bridge is in Maryland (within an hour of Baltimore, closer to Annapolis). I originally heard the story from a friend of mine who has actually been to the bridge. (A *little* bit better than the classic "friend of a friend", I guess.) She is not sure if she experienced actual "phenomena" -- or if she was unconsciously fulfilling pre-existing expectations. Here's the story:
Legend has it that there was a young woman, 17 years old, in the 70's living in this area of Maryland. Her family was very conservative (in some versions, her father was a preacher). Well, she had a bit of a wild streak, and liked to drink and smoke cigarettes (tobacco and otherwise). There was one particular boy she took a fancy to, perhaps because he fit her roguish image, and they began dating. Soon, she became pregnant. Knowing that her father would be very upset, and probably throw her out of his house -- she became distraught. She asked her boyfriend for help, only to learn that he wanted nothing more to do with her or the baby. If she tried to press matters, he would deny that he had fathered the child. Seeing no other choice, she decided to stay with an aunt in Virginia for a while. She hoped that once the baby was born, her father would soften up and take her and the child back into his home.
The aunt was sympathetic, but firmly told her that she could only stay until the baby was born. The aunt had many children of her own, and didn't feel she had enough space for two more. The girl agreed. All went well, and she had a healthy baby 8 1/2 months later.
One night soon after, she packed up their few belongings, worked up her courage, and left for her father's house. There, things took a turn for the worse. He was furious that she had not told him all this time. What made him even angrier was the public scandal this would cause. He viciously berated (and some say beat) her until she ran from the house in fear of her life. She took her baby with her. Hysterical, she had no idea where to run, and ended up at a nearby bridge. Looking down into the cool black water, sparkling in the moonlight, she began to see an answer to her problems. At the time, it must have seemed like the only solution. She and the baby would leave this miserable life together. As they plunged into the forgiving waters, they did just that. The bodies were never found.
If you go to the bridge on a cool dark night; especially if you're in emotional pain or distress, it is said that the baby's cries can be heard. Some say they are carried by the cold wind; others say they emanate from the depths of the cool water. No matter, they are reportedly unmistakable.
Now for my friend's experience:
She and another female friend went late one November night. It was still warm for that time of year, but seemed to get nippier once they got closer to the water. (No surprise there, as humidity generally makes the air feel cooler). She said that she was in fine spirits, but that her friend had just broken up with a boyfriend and was pretty miserable. The parked, got out of the car, and walked to the middle of the bridge. She said they had been there for about ten minutes when the wind kicked up. Her friend immediately heard cries that she believes to be those of the baby. My friend said that she herself thought the wind sounded very strange, sorrowful and whiney -- but that she wouldn't call it the unmistakable cries of a baby. They both agreed that the place was depressing, and making the second friend's sadness intensify, so they left.
This story reminds me of "La Llorona" which I know had been discussed on afg. I believe there was also a song written about this story featuring a different part of the country. Can anyone think of local legends similar to this from other parts of the country? I've only heard it about Maryland and points South.
To: ghost-discuss@aurora.cdb.com
Date: Tue, 1 Apr 1997 13:00:18 -0400
Subject: Cry-baby Bridge
This story is one more piece of Northeastern folklore I've heard over the years. The actual bridge is in Maryland (within an hour of Baltimore, closer to Annapolis). I originally heard the story from a friend of mine who has actually been to the bridge. (A *little* bit better than the classic "friend of a friend", I guess.) She is not sure if she experienced actual "phenomena" -- or if she was unconsciously fulfilling pre-existing expectations. Here's the story:
Legend has it that there was a young woman, 17 years old, in the 70's living in this area of Maryland. Her family was very conservative (in some versions, her father was a preacher). Well, she had a bit of a wild streak, and liked to drink and smoke cigarettes (tobacco and otherwise). There was one particular boy she took a fancy to, perhaps because he fit her roguish image, and they began dating. Soon, she became pregnant. Knowing that her father would be very upset, and probably throw her out of his house -- she became distraught. She asked her boyfriend for help, only to learn that he wanted nothing more to do with her or the baby. If she tried to press matters, he would deny that he had fathered the child. Seeing no other choice, she decided to stay with an aunt in Virginia for a while. She hoped that once the baby was born, her father would soften up and take her and the child back into his home.
The aunt was sympathetic, but firmly told her that she could only stay until the baby was born. The aunt had many children of her own, and didn't feel she had enough space for two more. The girl agreed. All went well, and she had a healthy baby 8 1/2 months later.
One night soon after, she packed up their few belongings, worked up her courage, and left for her father's house. There, things took a turn for the worse. He was furious that she had not told him all this time. What made him even angrier was the public scandal this would cause. He viciously berated (and some say beat) her until she ran from the house in fear of her life. She took her baby with her. Hysterical, she had no idea where to run, and ended up at a nearby bridge. Looking down into the cool black water, sparkling in the moonlight, she began to see an answer to her problems. At the time, it must have seemed like the only solution. She and the baby would leave this miserable life together. As they plunged into the forgiving waters, they did just that. The bodies were never found.
If you go to the bridge on a cool dark night; especially if you're in emotional pain or distress, it is said that the baby's cries can be heard. Some say they are carried by the cold wind; others say they emanate from the depths of the cool water. No matter, they are reportedly unmistakable.
Now for my friend's experience:
She and another female friend went late one November night. It was still warm for that time of year, but seemed to get nippier once they got closer to the water. (No surprise there, as humidity generally makes the air feel cooler). She said that she was in fine spirits, but that her friend had just broken up with a boyfriend and was pretty miserable. The parked, got out of the car, and walked to the middle of the bridge. She said they had been there for about ten minutes when the wind kicked up. Her friend immediately heard cries that she believes to be those of the baby. My friend said that she herself thought the wind sounded very strange, sorrowful and whiney -- but that she wouldn't call it the unmistakable cries of a baby. They both agreed that the place was depressing, and making the second friend's sadness intensify, so they left.
This story reminds me of "La Llorona" which I know had been discussed on afg. I believe there was also a song written about this story featuring a different part of the country. Can anyone think of local legends similar to this from other parts of the country? I've only heard it about Maryland and points South.
SaetanSadiablo: I got worried for a second.
SaetanSadiablo: I found a website that had deaalings in 'boy scouts' and it also had dealings with 'alternate lifestyles.' And was worried that it was a place breeding homophobes.
SaetanSadiablo: I had to check it out.
angrypsychokel: eep
SaetanSadiablo: It is safe for the gay youth of tomorrow. Farewell!
SaetanSadiablo: ::SuperFag flies off in the distance::
angrypsychokel: *lol*
RheaRhyolin: lol
SaetanSadiablo: I found a website that had deaalings in 'boy scouts' and it also had dealings with 'alternate lifestyles.' And was worried that it was a place breeding homophobes.
SaetanSadiablo: I had to check it out.
angrypsychokel: eep
SaetanSadiablo: It is safe for the gay youth of tomorrow. Farewell!
SaetanSadiablo: ::SuperFag flies off in the distance::
angrypsychokel: *lol*
RheaRhyolin: lol
Trinity Episcopal church haunting in San Francisco
By: Paulroger2@aol.com
Trinity Episcopal Church was built in 1892 and sits on the corner of Bush and
Gough Streets. In San Francisco. It is a large stone gothic church that was
designed after the Durham castle in England.
I have been a sexton (caretaker) for the church for about the last 10 years.
Meals on wheels have started their program of feeding approximately 160
elderly folks around the neighborhood at our church. Monday through Friday
between 11:30am and 1:30pm the dining room is full of elderly people and it
is a good way to utilize the space.
However, two of the kitchen workers have quit shortly after starting. They
only lasted a few days when on two separate occasions they became frightened.
One worker was going up the steps to the hallway when he suddenly saw a
ghost, sort of like a grey entity or shadow of a figure coming out of the
men's bathroom. and disappear through the wall on the other side of the hall.
The other worker saw it again on another occasion near the entrance to the
kitchen from the hallway.
We used to have a 7-day candle on the healing alter that burned 24 hours a
day.
When Paul, who is the other sexton, and I would come in to clean on Monday
morning, the candle would always be out and I or Paul would always have to
relight it. It never went out on any other day and their are two other 7 day
candles in the church that burn 24 hours a day, but they never went out like
this one did. every Monday it would be out. We thought it must be a draft
somewhere, funny though the draft always happened between Sunday afternoon
and Monday morning.
I saw it one evening in the church when I was vacuuming near the chapel
alter. It looked like a 3 dimensional shadow of a human figure and it came
down the steps and went right passed me. Startled by it, I turned off the
vacuum and swiftly made my way down stairs calling out for Paul. I made him
come back up with me to investigate my experience with the ghost. We sat in
one of the front pews and waited silently for a while but nothing else
happened that evening.
One time, it was late afternoon, I was straightening all of the kneelers
pushing them all underneath the pews. When I walked down the middle aisle I
was checking that all the kneelers were in straight rows. About halfway down
the church in one of the rows, one of the kneelers was pushed out from the
rest of the kneelers. This kneeler looks different from all the rest and is
sort of an oddball kneeler and I distinctly remember pushing that kneeler
under the pew. I was startled by what I saw, but I went over and pushed it
back underneath the pew. no one else was in the Sanctuary with me and Paul
was cleaning the rooms downstairs at the time.
On still another occasion It was a Sunday Morning, people from the 8:00am
service had left and the Father Michael had gone into the Rector's office to
chat with Father Cromey. I was again vacuuming the carpet in the Sanctuary
of the Church when the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I turned
around and saw a tall slender figure wearing an off-white linen suit and he
was across the aisle in the other section of pews but he was standing their
facing me, and as I started to focus on his face he vanished right before my
eyes. I was not startled this time because I sensed the figure was not
trying to frightened me. I turned off the vacuum and paused for a few minutes
and looked all around the church, hoping to get a glimpse of the ghost again,
but I didn't and I continued with my vacuuming.
One time, it was about 10 in the evening and I was mopping the bathrooms in
the ambulatory, (a curved half-circle hallway where the church offices are
located), and minutes before, I had come out of the room where the cleaning
supplies are kept. As I began mopping one of the bathrooms I heard like a
man's footsteps coming from that room. I stopped mopping and the footsteps
went down the hallway passed the bathroom doorway and I could see out into
the hallway and I saw nothing as the sounds of the footsteps walked passed
and continued to the other end of the hall. I was frozen stiff and couldn't
move. Again, the hair on my neck stood up and I flung the mop aside and ran
downstairs yelling for Paul.
Sometimes when I am in the men's bathroom downstairs all alone. I often feel
like someone is watching me.
This is where other people have observed a grey shadowed figure standing in
the hall just outside of the men's restroom.
Other people have had similar experiences too within the walls of this old
church built in 1892.
There is a crypt under the church where the founder, Rev. Flavel Mines is
buried. and we also have the columbarium in the Sanctuary of the church that
holds the remains of about twenty people.
Another time, about eight in the evening, our neighbor Andy went out to
dinner with us, we took him to a little cafe located near the church. So we
parked in the church parking lot. When we came back from the cafe, I took
Andy into the church to show him around. We came down the backstairs and
into the hall, when Andy suddenly said frantically, "what is that!" When I
looked down the hall I didn't see anything, but Andy described a grey shadowy
looking figure near the Men's restoom door in the hall, it had vanished by
the time I looked. I never told him about the ghost until he saw it himself,
because lately, I have sort of forgotten about it.
But with this recent occurrence with the two kitchen workers, it's reminded
me about my ghostly experiences here and I know that it is continuing.
I said out loud one time to the ghost, that I didn't want to be startled by
it or to hear it anymore and for me it seemed to stop. but who knows, one of
these days or nights, it's going to give me another startle when I least
expect it.
I think it's fun because I know that the ghost is not mischievious and is
just trying to get to another part of the church when people come around. So
I guess it's a lonely ghost. probably a church member from long ago. or
someone that used to attend one of the support groups that go on every
evening in the dining room. I don't know.
But when I have had my experiences with the ghost or ghosts, at the time, I
wasn't thinking about anything spooky when it happened. so I know I didn''t
imagine it. I'm usually thinking about other things and not anything to make
myself get spooked.
And the kichen workers didn't know anything about the ghost prior to their
ghostly experiences there.
By: Paulroger2@aol.com
Trinity Episcopal Church was built in 1892 and sits on the corner of Bush and
Gough Streets. In San Francisco. It is a large stone gothic church that was
designed after the Durham castle in England.
I have been a sexton (caretaker) for the church for about the last 10 years.
Meals on wheels have started their program of feeding approximately 160
elderly folks around the neighborhood at our church. Monday through Friday
between 11:30am and 1:30pm the dining room is full of elderly people and it
is a good way to utilize the space.
However, two of the kitchen workers have quit shortly after starting. They
only lasted a few days when on two separate occasions they became frightened.
One worker was going up the steps to the hallway when he suddenly saw a
ghost, sort of like a grey entity or shadow of a figure coming out of the
men's bathroom. and disappear through the wall on the other side of the hall.
The other worker saw it again on another occasion near the entrance to the
kitchen from the hallway.
We used to have a 7-day candle on the healing alter that burned 24 hours a
day.
When Paul, who is the other sexton, and I would come in to clean on Monday
morning, the candle would always be out and I or Paul would always have to
relight it. It never went out on any other day and their are two other 7 day
candles in the church that burn 24 hours a day, but they never went out like
this one did. every Monday it would be out. We thought it must be a draft
somewhere, funny though the draft always happened between Sunday afternoon
and Monday morning.
I saw it one evening in the church when I was vacuuming near the chapel
alter. It looked like a 3 dimensional shadow of a human figure and it came
down the steps and went right passed me. Startled by it, I turned off the
vacuum and swiftly made my way down stairs calling out for Paul. I made him
come back up with me to investigate my experience with the ghost. We sat in
one of the front pews and waited silently for a while but nothing else
happened that evening.
One time, it was late afternoon, I was straightening all of the kneelers
pushing them all underneath the pews. When I walked down the middle aisle I
was checking that all the kneelers were in straight rows. About halfway down
the church in one of the rows, one of the kneelers was pushed out from the
rest of the kneelers. This kneeler looks different from all the rest and is
sort of an oddball kneeler and I distinctly remember pushing that kneeler
under the pew. I was startled by what I saw, but I went over and pushed it
back underneath the pew. no one else was in the Sanctuary with me and Paul
was cleaning the rooms downstairs at the time.
On still another occasion It was a Sunday Morning, people from the 8:00am
service had left and the Father Michael had gone into the Rector's office to
chat with Father Cromey. I was again vacuuming the carpet in the Sanctuary
of the Church when the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I turned
around and saw a tall slender figure wearing an off-white linen suit and he
was across the aisle in the other section of pews but he was standing their
facing me, and as I started to focus on his face he vanished right before my
eyes. I was not startled this time because I sensed the figure was not
trying to frightened me. I turned off the vacuum and paused for a few minutes
and looked all around the church, hoping to get a glimpse of the ghost again,
but I didn't and I continued with my vacuuming.
One time, it was about 10 in the evening and I was mopping the bathrooms in
the ambulatory, (a curved half-circle hallway where the church offices are
located), and minutes before, I had come out of the room where the cleaning
supplies are kept. As I began mopping one of the bathrooms I heard like a
man's footsteps coming from that room. I stopped mopping and the footsteps
went down the hallway passed the bathroom doorway and I could see out into
the hallway and I saw nothing as the sounds of the footsteps walked passed
and continued to the other end of the hall. I was frozen stiff and couldn't
move. Again, the hair on my neck stood up and I flung the mop aside and ran
downstairs yelling for Paul.
Sometimes when I am in the men's bathroom downstairs all alone. I often feel
like someone is watching me.
This is where other people have observed a grey shadowed figure standing in
the hall just outside of the men's restroom.
Other people have had similar experiences too within the walls of this old
church built in 1892.
There is a crypt under the church where the founder, Rev. Flavel Mines is
buried. and we also have the columbarium in the Sanctuary of the church that
holds the remains of about twenty people.
Another time, about eight in the evening, our neighbor Andy went out to
dinner with us, we took him to a little cafe located near the church. So we
parked in the church parking lot. When we came back from the cafe, I took
Andy into the church to show him around. We came down the backstairs and
into the hall, when Andy suddenly said frantically, "what is that!" When I
looked down the hall I didn't see anything, but Andy described a grey shadowy
looking figure near the Men's restoom door in the hall, it had vanished by
the time I looked. I never told him about the ghost until he saw it himself,
because lately, I have sort of forgotten about it.
But with this recent occurrence with the two kitchen workers, it's reminded
me about my ghostly experiences here and I know that it is continuing.
I said out loud one time to the ghost, that I didn't want to be startled by
it or to hear it anymore and for me it seemed to stop. but who knows, one of
these days or nights, it's going to give me another startle when I least
expect it.
I think it's fun because I know that the ghost is not mischievious and is
just trying to get to another part of the church when people come around. So
I guess it's a lonely ghost. probably a church member from long ago. or
someone that used to attend one of the support groups that go on every
evening in the dining room. I don't know.
But when I have had my experiences with the ghost or ghosts, at the time, I
wasn't thinking about anything spooky when it happened. so I know I didn''t
imagine it. I'm usually thinking about other things and not anything to make
myself get spooked.
And the kichen workers didn't know anything about the ghost prior to their
ghostly experiences there.
Here is a fun (ok, weird) ghost themed game for your late night `Thonning enjoyment.
Feed the hungry ghost game - if you don't get how to play this game, you should just give up now. It entertained me for all of two minutes.
It's going to be a long night.
Feed the hungry ghost game - if you don't get how to play this game, you should just give up now. It entertained me for all of two minutes.
It's going to be a long night.
New pictures and sound updates will now change from every hour to every two hours to accomidate the fact that I'm running out of pictures and sounds. Also, because I'm abhorrently lazy.
Until then, here is the winner for the 10 PM drawing. Congrats to Skye who wins a starter collection of purdy crystals. No, I'm not giving away driveway gravel, although I could if you wanted me to.
Next drawing will be at 1 AM, so make sure you enter by sending me an E-mail with your name, postal address and E-mail.
Until then, here is the winner for the 10 PM drawing. Congrats to Skye who wins a starter collection of purdy crystals. No, I'm not giving away driveway gravel, although I could if you wanted me to.
Next drawing will be at 1 AM, so make sure you enter by sending me an E-mail with your name, postal address and E-mail.
Reposted from another site here is another ghost story Copyright 2003 by Chris Ullman.
---------
If the ghost lights in Marfa, Texas, are thought by many observers to be a bit mysterious, then the anomalous lights witnessed by hundreds of individuals in the skies above the Yakima Indian Reservation in south-central Washington state over the past thirty-plus years have got to be considered downright frightening to say the least.
This sparsely populated reservation is 3,500 miles square, resting snugly between rugged wilderness to the west and flat lands to the east. In the late 1960s many individuals on the reservation, among them forest rangers, fire-control personnel and everyday residents of the area, began reporting the movement of bright white lights across the sky late in the evening. These reports were subsequently filed with the chief fire control officer at the time, W.J. (Bill) Vogel, who by his own admission didn't pay much attention to the reports initially. One night as he was on patrol in the region, Vogel saw movement in the sky above a hill on Toppenish Ridge, which cuts through the reservation's east-central sector.
Spending over ninety minutes at the site viewing this strange object in the sky, Vogel took a series of still photographs and wrote some detailed notes describing what he had seen. And in the blink of an eye this one-time skeptic found himself engrossed in an aerial phenomenon that defied explanation. According to his notes, the light was not an aircraft, and had no discernible lateral movement. The object had an obvious teardrop shape, with the small end pointed upwards. It was brilliantly white in the center, surrounded by fluorescent tan or light orange edges and a halolike glow. A mouselike tail or antenna protruded from the top of the object; this antenna was reportedly divided into segments of red, blue, green and white colors which constantly rotated and changed in intensity and hue.
This would turn out to be the first of a number of late-night encounters between Vogel and this luminously brilliant light. The air force soon got wind of the goings-on near Toppenish Ridge, and after persuading the reservation's tribal leaders to allow them to do so, investigators swiftly descended on the reservation with a truckload of monitoring equipment and cameras in tow. Footage was shot, data was gathered, and everyone involved in that initial investigation -- and in all of the subsequent investigations as well -- left the area knowing little more about the phenomenon than when they first arrived.
The oddest reports recorded by fire lookouts involved apparent telepathic communication between the witnesses of the strange lights and some unknown entity. Although most of the sightings involved seeing the lights at a great distance, on occasion a number of viewers to the phenomenon, many of them fire lookouts themselves, reported "hearing" a voice in their heads that told them to stay back in order to avoid serious injury. One lookout on the reservation saw a shaft of bright purple light shining down around her cabin. When she made an attempt to go outside and investigate, she reported feeling a bizarre sensation that somehow prevented her from doing so. She claimed to feel an intensely odd force as if two magnets were repelling each other in order to block her egress from the cabin. Troubled, but apparently allowing her courage to outweigh her common sense, she even tried running across the cabin and launching herself at the doorway, but could not pass through it.
Many witnesses of these lights have reported experiencing a strong intuitive notion that they were seeing something they were not supposed to be seeing, and many have found that once they actually get to the reservation and see the display, they are compelled to immediately remove themselves from the presence of the lights that they have come to investigate.
Reports of encounters with craftlike structures and alien beings have also been filed at the reservation, most of them claiming involvement on some level with skinny, long-haired, long-nosed humanoids...
---------
If the ghost lights in Marfa, Texas, are thought by many observers to be a bit mysterious, then the anomalous lights witnessed by hundreds of individuals in the skies above the Yakima Indian Reservation in south-central Washington state over the past thirty-plus years have got to be considered downright frightening to say the least.
This sparsely populated reservation is 3,500 miles square, resting snugly between rugged wilderness to the west and flat lands to the east. In the late 1960s many individuals on the reservation, among them forest rangers, fire-control personnel and everyday residents of the area, began reporting the movement of bright white lights across the sky late in the evening. These reports were subsequently filed with the chief fire control officer at the time, W.J. (Bill) Vogel, who by his own admission didn't pay much attention to the reports initially. One night as he was on patrol in the region, Vogel saw movement in the sky above a hill on Toppenish Ridge, which cuts through the reservation's east-central sector.
Spending over ninety minutes at the site viewing this strange object in the sky, Vogel took a series of still photographs and wrote some detailed notes describing what he had seen. And in the blink of an eye this one-time skeptic found himself engrossed in an aerial phenomenon that defied explanation. According to his notes, the light was not an aircraft, and had no discernible lateral movement. The object had an obvious teardrop shape, with the small end pointed upwards. It was brilliantly white in the center, surrounded by fluorescent tan or light orange edges and a halolike glow. A mouselike tail or antenna protruded from the top of the object; this antenna was reportedly divided into segments of red, blue, green and white colors which constantly rotated and changed in intensity and hue.
This would turn out to be the first of a number of late-night encounters between Vogel and this luminously brilliant light. The air force soon got wind of the goings-on near Toppenish Ridge, and after persuading the reservation's tribal leaders to allow them to do so, investigators swiftly descended on the reservation with a truckload of monitoring equipment and cameras in tow. Footage was shot, data was gathered, and everyone involved in that initial investigation -- and in all of the subsequent investigations as well -- left the area knowing little more about the phenomenon than when they first arrived.
The oddest reports recorded by fire lookouts involved apparent telepathic communication between the witnesses of the strange lights and some unknown entity. Although most of the sightings involved seeing the lights at a great distance, on occasion a number of viewers to the phenomenon, many of them fire lookouts themselves, reported "hearing" a voice in their heads that told them to stay back in order to avoid serious injury. One lookout on the reservation saw a shaft of bright purple light shining down around her cabin. When she made an attempt to go outside and investigate, she reported feeling a bizarre sensation that somehow prevented her from doing so. She claimed to feel an intensely odd force as if two magnets were repelling each other in order to block her egress from the cabin. Troubled, but apparently allowing her courage to outweigh her common sense, she even tried running across the cabin and launching herself at the doorway, but could not pass through it.
Many witnesses of these lights have reported experiencing a strong intuitive notion that they were seeing something they were not supposed to be seeing, and many have found that once they actually get to the reservation and see the display, they are compelled to immediately remove themselves from the presence of the lights that they have come to investigate.
Reports of encounters with craftlike structures and alien beings have also been filed at the reservation, most of them claiming involvement on some level with skinny, long-haired, long-nosed humanoids...
Here's another story.
----
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: brianbet@camalott.com (Brian Bethel)
Subject: A Television Tale o' Terror.
Date: Fri, 19 Aug 1994 04:01:42 GMT
My Strange and Terrifying Television Experience
------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------
Okay. Here's the scoop. (Yes, we newspaper types really do say that!)
Long ago when I was about four or five, I stayed over at my grandparents' house for the night. My Mom stayed over with me, because Dad was out of town on business.
Granny and Granddad quite enjoyed their television programs, and had a set in each of the two bedrooms in the house, as well as in the living room. I was still stupid enough to believe TV's flickering, mind-sucking images were pretty neat, so I was in he aven.
Night came on softly, as it only can when you feel safety and warmth around you. With one of Granny's home-cooked meals in my stomach, I had begun to feel the need for slumber. So, we all piled in the monstrous king-sized bed in Granny and Granddad's mas ter bedroom, and soon we were all snoring blissfully.
I woke up in the night and sat upright, looking around. Something had disturbed my slumber. Granddad was still snoring rhythmically, and Granny looked like she hadn't budged an inch, so I sat back and prepared to visit the realm of dream once more.
Then the television turned itself on.
Now, I'm only 22 years old, but this was in the days when remote controls were the providence of the wealthy and debased. Granny and Grandad did not fit into any of those two categories.
To see a television turn itself on was an interesting thing. I sat up again to see what would come on.
At that time, the TV in my grandparents' bedroom was a black and white. I watched the white dot that had formed in the middle expand to full screen, but only the static of a dead channel appeared.
Then, images began to appear.
I couldn't really describe them. They were sort of shadowy things at first, but they seemed to be -- for lack of a better term -- "scoping me out." Slowly, an actual image began to appear.
Muppets! The Muppets were on! I was exalted, elated. I wanted to wake my grandparents up, but I then started to feel a bit uncomfortable about what was happening on the television.
Muppets did not usually have fangs as I recall. At least, not ones that looked so ... real and out of place in an otherwise standard Muppet-style mouth.
I realize this is sounding goofy. You were warned. :)
Well, uncertain about what to do, I decided to keep a close watch on the television.
The "Muppets" looked at me. It was common of course on Sesame Street and the Muppet Show for them to acknowledge the audience, so I wasn't alarmed so much by that.
I describe these things as Muppets because that's primarily what they looked like. Other than the rows and rows of unusual teeth, one looked vaguely Groveresque and the other sort of reminded me of Harry the Monster (don't know if he's even ON Sesame Str eet anymore).
The Groveresque Muppet leaned over and pointed at me, while whispering something to his companion. They looked at me in unison, whispering all the while in a strange, unusually guttural tongue. It sounded completely random, although it did somehow seem t o follow the meter and pattern of a language.
I noticed when the Groveresque Muppet pointed, he had very long, distinct talons on his furry hands. This, too, was quite disturbing.
The Muppets began to dance, sing and cavort about in that strange language of theirs. It was sort of amusing, I recall. I began to feel a bit more at ease.
The Muppets motioned for me to come forward.
I shook my head.
The Muppets tried again.
I shook my head. I was beginning to feel frightened. If there ever was a way Muppets could look pissed, these guys were doing it. With all those rows of fangs, it wasn't pretty.
I should mention that all of this singing, dancing, cavorting horror that was going on seemed to in no way disturb my grandparents. This disturbed me as well, because these guys were LOUD.
I got out of bed and crept into the living room, being careful to avoid approaching the screen. The Muppet-things wore visages of absolute anger now, motioning violently for me to approach the screen. My attempts rouse my grandmother and grandfather were in vain; they would not stir.
I ran into the living room, crying. I collapsed in my Granddad's chair, buried my face into the fabric, and began to weep, certain doom had come for me.
I looked over at the television in the corner of the living room. It had already begun to turn itself on, the shadow-forms that had dissolved into the Henson-styled horrors already beginning to flicker across its surface.
I screamed, rooted to the spot. But as the scream left my lungs and two grinning, fanged faces burst into being on the television screen, faintly and then with increasing tempo I heard footsteps.
The things in the television looked worried, swirled into their shadow-forms and were gone.
The television winked out just as my Mother ran into the room.
After consoling me, we went to check on Granny and Granddad. They were both awake, and had heard me scream.
We all sat up for a while talking, and eventually the warmth and love returned to fill the chill in my soul.
I went to bed and nothing more happened that night. Or any other night I stayed with my grandparents.
A waking dream? Probably so. But one that still fills me with terror.
I was awake of course, Mom will still assert, when I was in the chair. So, I did move somehow from the bed to the chair.
Still, it gives one pause. What better way to snare a young boy than to show him something he loves, then pull him in unawares?
Whatever those two things were, I'm sure the Muppet-forms were not their natural shape. I'm sure the fangs and talons were part of it, though.
If they're still out there, I hope they haven't had much time to practice those forms. If they could get them just right ...
I still wonder what would have happened -- dream or not -- if I had put my then-small hands up to the screen there in my grandparents' bedroom.
Perhaps nothing.
And then again, perhaps it's better not to know.
Next time, I'll post some real ghost stories. But the TV thread made remember this.
In case you're wondering, I don't watch much television anymore. It all seems so ... diabolical. ;)
----
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: brianbet@camalott.com (Brian Bethel)
Subject: A Television Tale o' Terror.
Date: Fri, 19 Aug 1994 04:01:42 GMT
My Strange and Terrifying Television Experience
------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------
Okay. Here's the scoop. (Yes, we newspaper types really do say that!)
Long ago when I was about four or five, I stayed over at my grandparents' house for the night. My Mom stayed over with me, because Dad was out of town on business.
Granny and Granddad quite enjoyed their television programs, and had a set in each of the two bedrooms in the house, as well as in the living room. I was still stupid enough to believe TV's flickering, mind-sucking images were pretty neat, so I was in he aven.
Night came on softly, as it only can when you feel safety and warmth around you. With one of Granny's home-cooked meals in my stomach, I had begun to feel the need for slumber. So, we all piled in the monstrous king-sized bed in Granny and Granddad's mas ter bedroom, and soon we were all snoring blissfully.
I woke up in the night and sat upright, looking around. Something had disturbed my slumber. Granddad was still snoring rhythmically, and Granny looked like she hadn't budged an inch, so I sat back and prepared to visit the realm of dream once more.
Then the television turned itself on.
Now, I'm only 22 years old, but this was in the days when remote controls were the providence of the wealthy and debased. Granny and Grandad did not fit into any of those two categories.
To see a television turn itself on was an interesting thing. I sat up again to see what would come on.
At that time, the TV in my grandparents' bedroom was a black and white. I watched the white dot that had formed in the middle expand to full screen, but only the static of a dead channel appeared.
Then, images began to appear.
I couldn't really describe them. They were sort of shadowy things at first, but they seemed to be -- for lack of a better term -- "scoping me out." Slowly, an actual image began to appear.
Muppets! The Muppets were on! I was exalted, elated. I wanted to wake my grandparents up, but I then started to feel a bit uncomfortable about what was happening on the television.
Muppets did not usually have fangs as I recall. At least, not ones that looked so ... real and out of place in an otherwise standard Muppet-style mouth.
I realize this is sounding goofy. You were warned. :)
Well, uncertain about what to do, I decided to keep a close watch on the television.
The "Muppets" looked at me. It was common of course on Sesame Street and the Muppet Show for them to acknowledge the audience, so I wasn't alarmed so much by that.
I describe these things as Muppets because that's primarily what they looked like. Other than the rows and rows of unusual teeth, one looked vaguely Groveresque and the other sort of reminded me of Harry the Monster (don't know if he's even ON Sesame Str eet anymore).
The Groveresque Muppet leaned over and pointed at me, while whispering something to his companion. They looked at me in unison, whispering all the while in a strange, unusually guttural tongue. It sounded completely random, although it did somehow seem t o follow the meter and pattern of a language.
I noticed when the Groveresque Muppet pointed, he had very long, distinct talons on his furry hands. This, too, was quite disturbing.
The Muppets began to dance, sing and cavort about in that strange language of theirs. It was sort of amusing, I recall. I began to feel a bit more at ease.
The Muppets motioned for me to come forward.
I shook my head.
The Muppets tried again.
I shook my head. I was beginning to feel frightened. If there ever was a way Muppets could look pissed, these guys were doing it. With all those rows of fangs, it wasn't pretty.
I should mention that all of this singing, dancing, cavorting horror that was going on seemed to in no way disturb my grandparents. This disturbed me as well, because these guys were LOUD.
I got out of bed and crept into the living room, being careful to avoid approaching the screen. The Muppet-things wore visages of absolute anger now, motioning violently for me to approach the screen. My attempts rouse my grandmother and grandfather were in vain; they would not stir.
I ran into the living room, crying. I collapsed in my Granddad's chair, buried my face into the fabric, and began to weep, certain doom had come for me.
I looked over at the television in the corner of the living room. It had already begun to turn itself on, the shadow-forms that had dissolved into the Henson-styled horrors already beginning to flicker across its surface.
I screamed, rooted to the spot. But as the scream left my lungs and two grinning, fanged faces burst into being on the television screen, faintly and then with increasing tempo I heard footsteps.
The things in the television looked worried, swirled into their shadow-forms and were gone.
The television winked out just as my Mother ran into the room.
After consoling me, we went to check on Granny and Granddad. They were both awake, and had heard me scream.
We all sat up for a while talking, and eventually the warmth and love returned to fill the chill in my soul.
I went to bed and nothing more happened that night. Or any other night I stayed with my grandparents.
A waking dream? Probably so. But one that still fills me with terror.
I was awake of course, Mom will still assert, when I was in the chair. So, I did move somehow from the bed to the chair.
Still, it gives one pause. What better way to snare a young boy than to show him something he loves, then pull him in unawares?
Whatever those two things were, I'm sure the Muppet-forms were not their natural shape. I'm sure the fangs and talons were part of it, though.
If they're still out there, I hope they haven't had much time to practice those forms. If they could get them just right ...
I still wonder what would have happened -- dream or not -- if I had put my then-small hands up to the screen there in my grandparents' bedroom.
Perhaps nothing.
And then again, perhaps it's better not to know.
Next time, I'll post some real ghost stories. But the TV thread made remember this.
In case you're wondering, I don't watch much television anymore. It all seems so ... diabolical. ;)
Another user submitted story for you! Also, new photos and a new sound.
-----
I recently moved from a house that my outside cat named "Cat" did not like. He was very skittish about going in there. I once thought if he had time he would get used to it. So I left him in the house with food and water and went away for an hour or so.
When I came home he didn't run up to me. I looked under the furniture but couldn't find him. I finally looked in a bathroom and found him shaking in the bath tub with it's nose down at the drain hole. I wondered if it sensed something in the house.
My new place is on the other side of the woods from my old house and I think Cat found my new place by my five sets of wind chimes that are always ringing. I could not move him in the car because in his terror of the car he would have clawed me to pieces.
I was anxious to get Cat into my new place to see how he acted in there. The first time he came to eat was during the day. He came in and sniffed around and seemed to like the place. He ate his food and then disappeared for his usual two or three days. I guess he goes out hunting for girl cats!
When he came back was the first night after a bad ice storm. Power was out in most residential areas for days. It was pitch black dark as there were no street lights. Everything was coated with ice. Broken branches and trees were everywhere and it was slightly foggy. It was a creepy scene. I got in from work at night and went about looking for candles. Lights were on when I left for work so I didn't prepare for darkness or cold.
As I was hunting around Cat ran up to the back door for food, which startled me because I was creeped anyway. Always being glad to see him, I opened the door to let him in. This time he didn't want to come in. I use a manual can opener and when he heard that he came in anyway because he knows that menas food.
After putting the bowl on the floor Cat starts chowing down. I talk to Cat like a person and explained to him I had to go get a sleeping bag from the basement since I would need it to stay warm in bed without heat.
I go down and get the sleeping bag. It was unrolled, so since I was ready to get out of the basement I just draped the sleeping bag over my shoulder (kinda like Linus) and started up the stairs. I was carrying a candle and was holding it out in front of me so I could see. As I was coming towards the top few stairs Cat looked at me and jumped straight up in the air. He hit the ground running and ran into the back sun room where the plexiglass back door is. He then jumps about three feet into the air and into the door. He fell to the ground, ran around in circles and jumped into the door again. It scared me so bad I almost wet myself! I ran to let him out so he wouldn't hurt himself jumping into the door.
It took me a few minutes to compose myself. I was sweating, my heart was pounding furiously, and I was shaking. Finally with a clearer head I figured that Cat really didn't understand what I was saying about the basement and was too busy eating to see me go down the stairs. I must have looked like Death himself dragging that sleeping bag and the candle light casting flickering shadows across my face.
Now, after thinking some more, what scares me is that he might have something walking behind me that humans can't see!
Good Night and Sleep Tight!
---Update On The Scared Cat---
It was days before Cat came back after the ice storm. It was daytime again and he didn't hesitate much about coming in. He ate, I talked to him some (I'm the Cat Whisperer) and he wanted out so I let him out.
He came back at night and he was once again hesitant about coming in. So I did the can opener trick again and here he comes. Cat could eat a T-Bone steak and ten minutes later he's acting like he's starving. That silly Cat.
This time he only eats a few bites, which is unusual. But, then again, I figured maybe he was still full from earlier.
He went into the sun room by the back door and started growling. I had never in three years heard him growl, not even in the other house he didn't like. I tried to calm him but he kept moving about and growling. I knew he didn't want to be there so I let him out.
All this time I'm thinking about the basement ordeal trying to rationalize what's going on and trying to jutify it not being a paranormal event. I finally gave up and went about doing other things.
The next morning I go out to my small back deck to look across the woods, get fresh air, and watch the birds and squirrels. I turn to look the other way and looked down to see if the cat water dish needed more water. I got a chill from head to toe. There weres chunks of Cat's hair everywhere. It was on the deck and going down the first few stairs that go down to my back yard. I picked it up a clump for a closer look, thinking maybe it just looked like Cat's hair. But it definitely was.
The weird thing is that there wasn't a drop of blood! I don't know what to make of it. Surely a dog attack would've left blood. And Cat would have jumped off the deck to get away. There are two flights of stairs from the ground and the cat could not have gotten caught off gaurd with that set up. And I had been home the whole time and heard no ruckus. It's a small place and I would have heard. Cat has not come back and it's been a while. I'm worried. Even when out courting he gets hungry and comes home after two or three days.
I've thought that maybe a large owl from the woods flew down and grabbed him. Or maybe it was *something else* - I don't know.
Sweet Dreams
-----
I recently moved from a house that my outside cat named "Cat" did not like. He was very skittish about going in there. I once thought if he had time he would get used to it. So I left him in the house with food and water and went away for an hour or so.
When I came home he didn't run up to me. I looked under the furniture but couldn't find him. I finally looked in a bathroom and found him shaking in the bath tub with it's nose down at the drain hole. I wondered if it sensed something in the house.
My new place is on the other side of the woods from my old house and I think Cat found my new place by my five sets of wind chimes that are always ringing. I could not move him in the car because in his terror of the car he would have clawed me to pieces.
I was anxious to get Cat into my new place to see how he acted in there. The first time he came to eat was during the day. He came in and sniffed around and seemed to like the place. He ate his food and then disappeared for his usual two or three days. I guess he goes out hunting for girl cats!
When he came back was the first night after a bad ice storm. Power was out in most residential areas for days. It was pitch black dark as there were no street lights. Everything was coated with ice. Broken branches and trees were everywhere and it was slightly foggy. It was a creepy scene. I got in from work at night and went about looking for candles. Lights were on when I left for work so I didn't prepare for darkness or cold.
As I was hunting around Cat ran up to the back door for food, which startled me because I was creeped anyway. Always being glad to see him, I opened the door to let him in. This time he didn't want to come in. I use a manual can opener and when he heard that he came in anyway because he knows that menas food.
After putting the bowl on the floor Cat starts chowing down. I talk to Cat like a person and explained to him I had to go get a sleeping bag from the basement since I would need it to stay warm in bed without heat.
I go down and get the sleeping bag. It was unrolled, so since I was ready to get out of the basement I just draped the sleeping bag over my shoulder (kinda like Linus) and started up the stairs. I was carrying a candle and was holding it out in front of me so I could see. As I was coming towards the top few stairs Cat looked at me and jumped straight up in the air. He hit the ground running and ran into the back sun room where the plexiglass back door is. He then jumps about three feet into the air and into the door. He fell to the ground, ran around in circles and jumped into the door again. It scared me so bad I almost wet myself! I ran to let him out so he wouldn't hurt himself jumping into the door.
It took me a few minutes to compose myself. I was sweating, my heart was pounding furiously, and I was shaking. Finally with a clearer head I figured that Cat really didn't understand what I was saying about the basement and was too busy eating to see me go down the stairs. I must have looked like Death himself dragging that sleeping bag and the candle light casting flickering shadows across my face.
Now, after thinking some more, what scares me is that he might have something walking behind me that humans can't see!
Good Night and Sleep Tight!
---Update On The Scared Cat---
It was days before Cat came back after the ice storm. It was daytime again and he didn't hesitate much about coming in. He ate, I talked to him some (I'm the Cat Whisperer) and he wanted out so I let him out.
He came back at night and he was once again hesitant about coming in. So I did the can opener trick again and here he comes. Cat could eat a T-Bone steak and ten minutes later he's acting like he's starving. That silly Cat.
This time he only eats a few bites, which is unusual. But, then again, I figured maybe he was still full from earlier.
He went into the sun room by the back door and started growling. I had never in three years heard him growl, not even in the other house he didn't like. I tried to calm him but he kept moving about and growling. I knew he didn't want to be there so I let him out.
All this time I'm thinking about the basement ordeal trying to rationalize what's going on and trying to jutify it not being a paranormal event. I finally gave up and went about doing other things.
The next morning I go out to my small back deck to look across the woods, get fresh air, and watch the birds and squirrels. I turn to look the other way and looked down to see if the cat water dish needed more water. I got a chill from head to toe. There weres chunks of Cat's hair everywhere. It was on the deck and going down the first few stairs that go down to my back yard. I picked it up a clump for a closer look, thinking maybe it just looked like Cat's hair. But it definitely was.
The weird thing is that there wasn't a drop of blood! I don't know what to make of it. Surely a dog attack would've left blood. And Cat would have jumped off the deck to get away. There are two flights of stairs from the ground and the cat could not have gotten caught off gaurd with that set up. And I had been home the whole time and heard no ruckus. It's a small place and I would have heard. Cat has not come back and it's been a while. I'm worried. Even when out courting he gets hungry and comes home after two or three days.
I've thought that maybe a large owl from the woods flew down and grabbed him. Or maybe it was *something else* - I don't know.
Sweet Dreams
Here's another question and answer. If you've got a question you want answered send it to me at me@kiddlets.com or give me a jingle on AIM at RheaRhyolin. If you've already given me questions and I haven't answered them yet, don't worry, I'll get to them before the night is done.
Q: What does a ghost look like?
A: Spirits, Ghosts, Entities, they've all got different levels of manifestation.
The first manifestation is an orb, an orb is a round or oval shaped ball of energy. Spirits get this energy by borrowing it from people and objects that conduct energy, like power lines. Orbs can vary in shape and color (usally yellow, white or blue) and are generally thicker and more realistic then dust or water spots on a photograph.
The second manifestation is refered to as plasma light. Plasma lights are more defined and larger orbs. Plasma lights are generally blue or red. Neither plasma lights or orbs are generally seen by the naked eye, although sometimes can be seen during a bright flash of light, like from a camera.
The third manifestation is a transparent or partial manifestation of the actual person. Usally all you see when it is this is a head, face, or other parts of the body. This varies but is usally not seen by the naked eye.
The fourth manifestation is a complete manifestation. This manifestation is where you get more of the spirit, such as the head and the torso, but not the legs. These types of manifestations can be seen quite often by the naked eye.
The fifth manifestation is called the solid manifestation. This is when the spirit completely manifests and appears to be as solid as an actual person. Sometimes when you hear stories about people being dragged from cars by people who later vanish or someone who walked past you out of nowhere in an empty building are examples of a solid manifestation.
Q: What does a ghost look like?
A: Spirits, Ghosts, Entities, they've all got different levels of manifestation.
The first manifestation is an orb, an orb is a round or oval shaped ball of energy. Spirits get this energy by borrowing it from people and objects that conduct energy, like power lines. Orbs can vary in shape and color (usally yellow, white or blue) and are generally thicker and more realistic then dust or water spots on a photograph.
The second manifestation is refered to as plasma light. Plasma lights are more defined and larger orbs. Plasma lights are generally blue or red. Neither plasma lights or orbs are generally seen by the naked eye, although sometimes can be seen during a bright flash of light, like from a camera.
The third manifestation is a transparent or partial manifestation of the actual person. Usally all you see when it is this is a head, face, or other parts of the body. This varies but is usally not seen by the naked eye.
The fourth manifestation is a complete manifestation. This manifestation is where you get more of the spirit, such as the head and the torso, but not the legs. These types of manifestations can be seen quite often by the naked eye.
The fifth manifestation is called the solid manifestation. This is when the spirit completely manifests and appears to be as solid as an actual person. Sometimes when you hear stories about people being dragged from cars by people who later vanish or someone who walked past you out of nowhere in an empty building are examples of a solid manifestation.
Another user submitted story for you. Up next, questions answered!
-----
Dachau was one of the most awful concentration camps in Germany during WW II. They gassed and cooked around 150,000 men, women, and children. They used the ovens to cook the corpses due to the volume of deaths:
The ashes took up less room than a whole corpse. A number of grusome medical experiments were done on living humans. Many did not live through them. Finally, the Americans liberated the people imprisoned there. A lot of those didn't live.
My friend was stationed in Dachau, Germany around 1969-1970. By that time it was used as a prison for U.S. Army soldiers who had broken the miltary law in some way or another. Also housed within the compound was the museum, administration building, mess hall, and trustees' housing. Outside the compound was the stockade and housing for the N.C.O.s.
In spite of what went on there, my friend, nor any of the service men stationed there, were ever bothered or disturbed by anything out of the ordinary.
At the entrance gate of the compound was a guard shack attached to the security wall of the compound. This was used for checking in prisoners, supplies and so on.
Night shift duty there in the shack was a rotated duty amongst the service men. My friend's partner had the night duty one night. He was a very solid military man and had no belief in anything outside of the obvious. He was there doing his duty like any one else.
On that night the unit commander recieved an phone call from town. It was the man who was on night duty in the guard shack. He explained that he was never coming back to his duty at Dachau, no matter what, court martial included.
He had glanced out across what was once the common area for the concentration camp prisoners. There, in the night's rolling fog, was thousands of ghostly figures, milling about in the yard as they may have been doing forty six years or so in the past:
-----
Dachau was one of the most awful concentration camps in Germany during WW II. They gassed and cooked around 150,000 men, women, and children. They used the ovens to cook the corpses due to the volume of deaths:
The ashes took up less room than a whole corpse. A number of grusome medical experiments were done on living humans. Many did not live through them. Finally, the Americans liberated the people imprisoned there. A lot of those didn't live.
My friend was stationed in Dachau, Germany around 1969-1970. By that time it was used as a prison for U.S. Army soldiers who had broken the miltary law in some way or another. Also housed within the compound was the museum, administration building, mess hall, and trustees' housing. Outside the compound was the stockade and housing for the N.C.O.s.
In spite of what went on there, my friend, nor any of the service men stationed there, were ever bothered or disturbed by anything out of the ordinary.
At the entrance gate of the compound was a guard shack attached to the security wall of the compound. This was used for checking in prisoners, supplies and so on.
Night shift duty there in the shack was a rotated duty amongst the service men. My friend's partner had the night duty one night. He was a very solid military man and had no belief in anything outside of the obvious. He was there doing his duty like any one else.
On that night the unit commander recieved an phone call from town. It was the man who was on night duty in the guard shack. He explained that he was never coming back to his duty at Dachau, no matter what, court martial included.
He had glanced out across what was once the common area for the concentration camp prisoners. There, in the night's rolling fog, was thousands of ghostly figures, milling about in the yard as they may have been doing forty six years or so in the past:
Another ghost story for your reading pleasure. Also, new photographs some of the inside of the church at night with some orbs, and a new sound. Suggestions on what this one sounds like?
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The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall
Norfolk's best-known ghost is the Brown Lady of Raynham Hall, so called because she is always seen on the staircase and in the corridors of Raynham Hall wearing a brown brocade dress. The Brown Lady is Dorothy Walpole. She was the daughter of Robert Walpole, an MP for Houghton, in Norfolk, and sister of the more-famous Sir Robert Walpole, the 18th century Prime Minister. There have been many eyewitness accounts of this haunting as well as it being one of the most reliably photographed ghosts in history.
The 1936 photograph of the Brown Lady in the "Country Life" magazine.. Dorothy fell in love with the Second Viscount Townshend but her father, who was Lord Townshend's guardian, refused his consent to their marriage. Lord Townshend eventually married the daughter of Baron Pelham of Laughton, but became a widower in 1711. Shortly afterwards he finally married the love of his life, Dorothy Walpole.
However, in the meantime, Dorothy Walpole had become the mistress of Lord Wharton, who had to leave the country after building up a pile of debts. It was after his marriage to Dorothy Walpole that Lord Townshend learned of his wife's previous conduct with Lord Wharton and ordered that she be kept locked in her apartments at Raynham Hall.
She died at the age of 40, on 29th March, 1726, officially of smallpox but there were those who said that she had died of a broken heart, or even a broken neck after either falling, or being pushed down the Grand Staircase. It is believed that she returns to Raynham Hall in search of her children, from whom she had been parted by her husband, after he had learned about her affair with Lord Wharton.
In 1836, the author Captain Marryat was staying at Raynham Hall and asked his host, Lord Townshend, if he could sleep in the room from which the Brown Lady was said to appear. As he was about to retire to bed for the night, two young men, relations of Lord Townshend, called into his room and said that they wished to discuss a gun that they intended using the whilst out on a shooting party. Captain Marryat accompanied them both to their room.
A few minutes later, whilst all three were returning along the corridor to Captain Marryat's room, joking that the gun would protect them from the Brown Lady, they saw a female figure advancing towards them, carrying a lamp. As she drew nearer, Captain Marryat realised that he had seen the woman before, in a portrait that hung in his room.
All three realised that the figure that was passing them was the ghostly Brown Lady and Captain Marryat pulled the trigger of the gun. The bullet went straight through the figure, which disappeared just after the shot was fired, and was later found in a door behind where she had been.
In 1849, Major Loftus was spending a few days at Raynham Hall and was having a game of chess one evening with a friend called Hawkins. After finishing the final game they decided to retire to bed and proceeded upstairs. As they were wishing each other goodnight, Hawkins pointed to the figure of a woman standing by one of the doors in the corridor. As they stood staring at her, the figure slowly vanished. The following night the Major saw the apparition again and he was startled to see that her eye-sockets were empty.
In November, 1926, Lady Townshend was staying for the weekend at Raynham Hall when, with her son and a friend, she saw the Brown Lady on the staircase. None of them had heard of the Brown Lady prior to this meeting but all swore that the woman they had met was the same one that was portrayed in the portrait of Dorothy Walpole.
George IV visited Raynham Hall when he was Prince Regent, and the Brown Lady is said to have frightened him out of his wits. He woke up in the middle of the night to see the ghostly figure standing at the foot of his bed. He promptly left, saying "I will not spend another hour in this accursed house, for tonight I have seen that which I hope to God I never see again".
On 19th September, 1936, the world-famous picture of the Brown Lady was taken by Captain Provand, whilst he was on a assignment for the magazine "Country Life". He had taken one photograph of the old staircase when his assistant, Indre Shira, called out that he could see a form on the stairs and asked Captain Provand to take another shot. Although the figure did not appear in the viewfinder, it appeared on the photographic plate, and after the negative had been examined by experts it was confirmed that it had not been touched up or faked in any way. The picture was subsequently published in "Country Life" on 6th December, 1936.
The Duke of Monmouth, two ghostly children and a ghost of a cocker spaniel are also reported to haunt Raynham Hall.
-----
The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall
Norfolk's best-known ghost is the Brown Lady of Raynham Hall, so called because she is always seen on the staircase and in the corridors of Raynham Hall wearing a brown brocade dress. The Brown Lady is Dorothy Walpole. She was the daughter of Robert Walpole, an MP for Houghton, in Norfolk, and sister of the more-famous Sir Robert Walpole, the 18th century Prime Minister. There have been many eyewitness accounts of this haunting as well as it being one of the most reliably photographed ghosts in history.
The 1936 photograph of the Brown Lady in the "Country Life" magazine.. Dorothy fell in love with the Second Viscount Townshend but her father, who was Lord Townshend's guardian, refused his consent to their marriage. Lord Townshend eventually married the daughter of Baron Pelham of Laughton, but became a widower in 1711. Shortly afterwards he finally married the love of his life, Dorothy Walpole.
However, in the meantime, Dorothy Walpole had become the mistress of Lord Wharton, who had to leave the country after building up a pile of debts. It was after his marriage to Dorothy Walpole that Lord Townshend learned of his wife's previous conduct with Lord Wharton and ordered that she be kept locked in her apartments at Raynham Hall.
She died at the age of 40, on 29th March, 1726, officially of smallpox but there were those who said that she had died of a broken heart, or even a broken neck after either falling, or being pushed down the Grand Staircase. It is believed that she returns to Raynham Hall in search of her children, from whom she had been parted by her husband, after he had learned about her affair with Lord Wharton.
In 1836, the author Captain Marryat was staying at Raynham Hall and asked his host, Lord Townshend, if he could sleep in the room from which the Brown Lady was said to appear. As he was about to retire to bed for the night, two young men, relations of Lord Townshend, called into his room and said that they wished to discuss a gun that they intended using the whilst out on a shooting party. Captain Marryat accompanied them both to their room.
A few minutes later, whilst all three were returning along the corridor to Captain Marryat's room, joking that the gun would protect them from the Brown Lady, they saw a female figure advancing towards them, carrying a lamp. As she drew nearer, Captain Marryat realised that he had seen the woman before, in a portrait that hung in his room.
All three realised that the figure that was passing them was the ghostly Brown Lady and Captain Marryat pulled the trigger of the gun. The bullet went straight through the figure, which disappeared just after the shot was fired, and was later found in a door behind where she had been.
In 1849, Major Loftus was spending a few days at Raynham Hall and was having a game of chess one evening with a friend called Hawkins. After finishing the final game they decided to retire to bed and proceeded upstairs. As they were wishing each other goodnight, Hawkins pointed to the figure of a woman standing by one of the doors in the corridor. As they stood staring at her, the figure slowly vanished. The following night the Major saw the apparition again and he was startled to see that her eye-sockets were empty.
In November, 1926, Lady Townshend was staying for the weekend at Raynham Hall when, with her son and a friend, she saw the Brown Lady on the staircase. None of them had heard of the Brown Lady prior to this meeting but all swore that the woman they had met was the same one that was portrayed in the portrait of Dorothy Walpole.
George IV visited Raynham Hall when he was Prince Regent, and the Brown Lady is said to have frightened him out of his wits. He woke up in the middle of the night to see the ghostly figure standing at the foot of his bed. He promptly left, saying "I will not spend another hour in this accursed house, for tonight I have seen that which I hope to God I never see again".
On 19th September, 1936, the world-famous picture of the Brown Lady was taken by Captain Provand, whilst he was on a assignment for the magazine "Country Life". He had taken one photograph of the old staircase when his assistant, Indre Shira, called out that he could see a form on the stairs and asked Captain Provand to take another shot. Although the figure did not appear in the viewfinder, it appeared on the photographic plate, and after the negative had been examined by experts it was confirmed that it had not been touched up or faked in any way. The picture was subsequently published in "Country Life" on 6th December, 1936.
The Duke of Monmouth, two ghostly children and a ghost of a cocker spaniel are also reported to haunt Raynham Hall.
This time we've got a user submitted story. This one comes from Prana at Pranagraphy.
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When I was six we moved from Florida to Ohio and lived in what at the time I thought was a big house. There was an extensive basement that not even the adults would go into and a second story which was mostly empty. In one room upstairs there were alcoves on each side of the room because the roof slanted so the walls slanted and created a sort of triangular attic space on either side of the house. We were forbidden to go into the 'attic' because if you fell through the rafter in the 'attic' you would literally fall into the walls and to get out someone would have to lower a rope about twelve feet or tear open the wall on the outside of the house. Needless to say, the idea of being trapped in the walls scared us silly.
It was at this house that I saw my first ghost and had my first taste of the paranormal. For Christmas I had been given a collection of possible porcelain and foam dolls as well as a teddy bear and a large blue rag doll. The teddy bear I named George after my 'imaginary' friend and the doll I gave no name. At night I would surround myself with stuffed animals as I thought they would protect me in my sleep. When I awoke in the morning not only were all my toys gone, all the dolls were in different positions and the blue rag doll was no where to be found. Only George remained in bed with me. I was a little scared but mostly figured that my mom had come in and cleaned while I slept. I looked for the blue rag doll but could not find her so I went out to play. When I returned that night for bed the blue rag doll was on my bed sitting up with her arms and legs folded neatly. Again I assumed my mother had cleaned. I went to bed with my toys around me and George at my side but I put the blue rag doll in the closet under a pile of closed so that she could not move. I also turned all my dolls so they faced the wall and could not watch me while I slept. In the morning I awoke to find all my toys again on the floor, and George at my side. But all my dolls were now facing me. I opened the closet and there sat the rag doll arms and legs folded neatly. I ran to ask my mom if she had been cleaning my room and she swore she hadn't touched it in days. Again that night I followed the same procedure and again I awoke to the dolls facing me, my stuffed animals strewn across the floor and the blue rag doll sitting neatly in the closet. At this point I was very very frightened. I took the blue doll out back and put her in the trash and she was taken to the dump, never to pester me again. Many things happened in the house after that which leads me to believe it was not the doll that was the problem, but the house.
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Congrats to our 7 PM winner of another pair of vanilla pillar candles Butterfly!
Next drawing will be at 10 PM PST. Don't forget to enter to win some of the other prizes.
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When I was six we moved from Florida to Ohio and lived in what at the time I thought was a big house. There was an extensive basement that not even the adults would go into and a second story which was mostly empty. In one room upstairs there were alcoves on each side of the room because the roof slanted so the walls slanted and created a sort of triangular attic space on either side of the house. We were forbidden to go into the 'attic' because if you fell through the rafter in the 'attic' you would literally fall into the walls and to get out someone would have to lower a rope about twelve feet or tear open the wall on the outside of the house. Needless to say, the idea of being trapped in the walls scared us silly.
It was at this house that I saw my first ghost and had my first taste of the paranormal. For Christmas I had been given a collection of possible porcelain and foam dolls as well as a teddy bear and a large blue rag doll. The teddy bear I named George after my 'imaginary' friend and the doll I gave no name. At night I would surround myself with stuffed animals as I thought they would protect me in my sleep. When I awoke in the morning not only were all my toys gone, all the dolls were in different positions and the blue rag doll was no where to be found. Only George remained in bed with me. I was a little scared but mostly figured that my mom had come in and cleaned while I slept. I looked for the blue rag doll but could not find her so I went out to play. When I returned that night for bed the blue rag doll was on my bed sitting up with her arms and legs folded neatly. Again I assumed my mother had cleaned. I went to bed with my toys around me and George at my side but I put the blue rag doll in the closet under a pile of closed so that she could not move. I also turned all my dolls so they faced the wall and could not watch me while I slept. In the morning I awoke to find all my toys again on the floor, and George at my side. But all my dolls were now facing me. I opened the closet and there sat the rag doll arms and legs folded neatly. I ran to ask my mom if she had been cleaning my room and she swore she hadn't touched it in days. Again that night I followed the same procedure and again I awoke to the dolls facing me, my stuffed animals strewn across the floor and the blue rag doll sitting neatly in the closet. At this point I was very very frightened. I took the blue doll out back and put her in the trash and she was taken to the dump, never to pester me again. Many things happened in the house after that which leads me to believe it was not the doll that was the problem, but the house.
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Congrats to our 7 PM winner of another pair of vanilla pillar candles Butterfly!
Next drawing will be at 10 PM PST. Don't forget to enter to win some of the other prizes.
New sound, what do you think this one sounds like? Some new photos for you lovely people as well.
Up next, a good old fashoned ghost story and some viewer submitted stuff! Also, don't forget, there is a drawing at 7 so submit your info and keep those questions coming, I'll be answering the ones I haven't gotten to yet within the next hour or so.
Up next, a good old fashoned ghost story and some viewer submitted stuff! Also, don't forget, there is a drawing at 7 so submit your info and keep those questions coming, I'll be answering the ones I haven't gotten to yet within the next hour or so.
I'm tired! I also need to stop trying to take my own pictures, it makes my head look huge in comparisan to the rest of the room.
Maybe I just have a huge head.
Maybe I just have a huge head.
Hey boys and girls, got a new featured sound for you. This one always sounded to me like 'hey girlfriend' but I'm very sure that's not what it is. Anyone want to take a stab at what it might be?
Also, four new pictures have been posted. Now we're getting to the fun stuff. This is starting my collection of about 30 night shots taken last night at the graveyard. Check out those photos, most of them will have orbs and maybe some other things in them. Orbs and 'others' have been circled in red. Notice how some aren't circled but look sort of like orbs? It's not, it's dust! Whee! Lots of dust but there are some orbs there too. Go look, already.
Want to know how to tell the difference between dust and orbs? True orbs are more 3D then dust, they'll be rounder and brighter as well.
As always, past photos and sounds can be found on the Graveyard Sounds and Graveyard Photos page.
Don't forget, next drawing is at 7 PST!
Also, four new pictures have been posted. Now we're getting to the fun stuff. This is starting my collection of about 30 night shots taken last night at the graveyard. Check out those photos, most of them will have orbs and maybe some other things in them. Orbs and 'others' have been circled in red. Notice how some aren't circled but look sort of like orbs? It's not, it's dust! Whee! Lots of dust but there are some orbs there too. Go look, already.
Want to know how to tell the difference between dust and orbs? True orbs are more 3D then dust, they'll be rounder and brighter as well.
As always, past photos and sounds can be found on the Graveyard Sounds and Graveyard Photos page.
Don't forget, next drawing is at 7 PST!
By the way, if you're not watching Fred's cam you should. It's amazingly riviting entertainment, right now he's folding laundry.
Welp, since it's that time again, I've decided to go ahead and draw a name for the first prize of the evening.
The winner of the first prize of the evening, a lovely set of yummy smelling vanilla pillar candles is:
Frederick Pettine
Congrats! If you want the chance to win a prize in our next small drawing at 7, or one of the other prizes I'm giving away after the `Thon, then fill out the form located on this page or send your real name, postal address, and e-mail address to me@kiddlets.com
The winner of the first prize of the evening, a lovely set of yummy smelling vanilla pillar candles is:
Frederick Pettine
Congrats! If you want the chance to win a prize in our next small drawing at 7, or one of the other prizes I'm giving away after the `Thon, then fill out the form located on this page or send your real name, postal address, and e-mail address to me@kiddlets.com
Myself and my late lunch of a chicken sandwich and cottage cheese are here with another ghost story for you.
First drawing for the during-Thon prizes is coming up at 5! So don't forget to get those entries in!
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Mrs. Marshall
From: harvestmom@aol.com (HarvestMom)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Lady of the house
Date: 27 Mar 1999 04:31:38 GMT
My mother began working for a wealthy DC family several years ago, they would come to Delaware to their beach house each summer and several times during the "off season." A year into her service with them, the lady developed liver cancer which quickly spread. She stayed at the Delaware house and requested that my mother be the one to take care of her through her last days. She was a sweet lady and Mom agreed although it broke her heart. Since I was still only 16 she couldn't be there 24 hours a day so she asked one of her sisters to come and help out. The family didn't really care for Virginia at all but tolerated her because of their love for my mother. The illness didn't take long to take the lady's life, she died in October, just a few months after learning the cancer had spread. I called Mom when I got home from school that day, as I did every day to let ehr know that yes I was ok. She told me the Mrs. had passed away in the middle of the night, she was gone by the time Mom got there that morning and she asked if I would please come down and help her clean up a little because the family was already on their way back to DC and she just didn't feel comfortable being there with just her sister. She said there had been tension between the family and Virginia before they left but no one had mentioned why. I had a friend drive me down and helped Mom do the "end of season" cleaning because the family would not be returning until the spring. As we were leaving, Mom said she wanted to make sure all the doors were locked so she was going to check the downstairs doors at each end. I stood by the main entrance at the foot of the stairs (in the foyer) waiting. Virginia came down the stairs and placed some of her belongings on the table that sat there and then she placed a mug there that I knew did not belong to her but she intended to take it with her. I watched as the mug appeared to be picked up and thrown down to the floor. It was no where near the edge of the table and I wasn't close enough to the table to have caused that to happen. In my heart I believe Mrs. Marshall was having her "final say" to Virginia, letting her know that she couldn't get away with taking anything from the house. Mom came out to see what had happened and I told her, she said that Virginia should never have tried to take anything, no matter how small and she deserved it. I agree 100% yes these were weathly people whom you'd think to be snobs but the truth is that they'd have given you the shirt off their backs if you'd asked
them.
Mom continued to work for them for years after, caring for the man each time he came down and making sure things were in order when his adult children came to visit. Each day she would say she felt the Mrs. nearby and it made me a little uneasy going there to help out on weekends that there would be a full house. I never felt her until the end of the summer when I was cleaning the pool furniture for storage. I felt as though I were being watched and I looked all around and noticed her standing in the window of her dressing room, just as she had the first season we were there. (After that first time she said it impressed her how much time I put into making sure the pool furniture was perfectly white before I got it ready for storage.) She was smiling when I saw her there, and she nodded to me, I smiled and waved to her thinking to myself that if anyone looked and didn't see her there they'd surely think I'd flipped waving at an empty window but I didn't really care because I hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to Mrs. Marshall and it was as if she knew that this would be my last season there and she didn't want to miss her chance to say goodbye to me. It was really neat.
First drawing for the during-Thon prizes is coming up at 5! So don't forget to get those entries in!
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Mrs. Marshall
From: harvestmom@aol.com (HarvestMom)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Lady of the house
Date: 27 Mar 1999 04:31:38 GMT
My mother began working for a wealthy DC family several years ago, they would come to Delaware to their beach house each summer and several times during the "off season." A year into her service with them, the lady developed liver cancer which quickly spread. She stayed at the Delaware house and requested that my mother be the one to take care of her through her last days. She was a sweet lady and Mom agreed although it broke her heart. Since I was still only 16 she couldn't be there 24 hours a day so she asked one of her sisters to come and help out. The family didn't really care for Virginia at all but tolerated her because of their love for my mother. The illness didn't take long to take the lady's life, she died in October, just a few months after learning the cancer had spread. I called Mom when I got home from school that day, as I did every day to let ehr know that yes I was ok. She told me the Mrs. had passed away in the middle of the night, she was gone by the time Mom got there that morning and she asked if I would please come down and help her clean up a little because the family was already on their way back to DC and she just didn't feel comfortable being there with just her sister. She said there had been tension between the family and Virginia before they left but no one had mentioned why. I had a friend drive me down and helped Mom do the "end of season" cleaning because the family would not be returning until the spring. As we were leaving, Mom said she wanted to make sure all the doors were locked so she was going to check the downstairs doors at each end. I stood by the main entrance at the foot of the stairs (in the foyer) waiting. Virginia came down the stairs and placed some of her belongings on the table that sat there and then she placed a mug there that I knew did not belong to her but she intended to take it with her. I watched as the mug appeared to be picked up and thrown down to the floor. It was no where near the edge of the table and I wasn't close enough to the table to have caused that to happen. In my heart I believe Mrs. Marshall was having her "final say" to Virginia, letting her know that she couldn't get away with taking anything from the house. Mom came out to see what had happened and I told her, she said that Virginia should never have tried to take anything, no matter how small and she deserved it. I agree 100% yes these were weathly people whom you'd think to be snobs but the truth is that they'd have given you the shirt off their backs if you'd asked
them.
Mom continued to work for them for years after, caring for the man each time he came down and making sure things were in order when his adult children came to visit. Each day she would say she felt the Mrs. nearby and it made me a little uneasy going there to help out on weekends that there would be a full house. I never felt her until the end of the summer when I was cleaning the pool furniture for storage. I felt as though I were being watched and I looked all around and noticed her standing in the window of her dressing room, just as she had the first season we were there. (After that first time she said it impressed her how much time I put into making sure the pool furniture was perfectly white before I got it ready for storage.) She was smiling when I saw her there, and she nodded to me, I smiled and waved to her thinking to myself that if anyone looked and didn't see her there they'd surely think I'd flipped waving at an empty window but I didn't really care because I hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to Mrs. Marshall and it was as if she knew that this would be my last season there and she didn't want to miss her chance to say goodbye to me. It was really neat.
Will you survive the Blogathon?
What do you guys think? Think I'll make it?
Another fun ghost story for you.
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North Royalton
Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 21:20:07 -0800 (PST)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
yourname MZZZZ B
email MZZZZ B@aol.com
I lived in a home in North Royalton, (surburb of Cleveland), Ohio for twelve years. All twelve years that my husband and two children lived there, we were not alone! For many years I was the only one in the family who could see our visitor-(I think we were the visitors!), but we all experienced paranormal phemomenina.
>From what I could piece together from neighbors and other sources, the
home was built by a police officer who lived there with his mother and father. This police officer had been assigned to the famous Sam Sheppard case, and was one of the detectives who investagated the case. This, however, has nothing to do with the ghost who was cooccupying the premisess. The home was built in 1946. The ghost must have been the owner of a home which was there before the present home was built, because he was dressed in the clothing of the mid 1800's.
My first indication that we were not alone came one evening about six months after we moved in. My oldest daughter was about a year and a half old at the time, (my son had not been born yet). We were in the basement doing laundry, when a heard a loud "thump" on the floor above me. My husband was working at his night-time job, so this really unnerved me. I was certain someone had knocked over one of my ceramic pots from one of the end tables in the livingroom. I was so frightened that I backed by daughter and I, as silently as I could, up the basements stairs and out the back door. We ran to a neighbors home and I called my husband to tell him that someone had broken into the house. While he was on the way home, a few neighbors decided to investigate. Two men from the neighborhood went into the house and searched it. When my husband came home fifteen minutes later he too joined the search. The only thing they found was my heavy hand made ceramic pot laying on its s! ! ide on the floor of the living room. This pot was always kept on the end table and was positioned in the middle of the table. It weighed at least six pounds, (more like ten pounds), and could not have vibrated off the table and on to the floor by a passing truck from the near-by freeway and the neighbors suggested. Besides, it near ended up on the floor again in the next twelve years I lived there!
After this incident, strange things began happening on a regular basis. For one thing every night, and even during the day, we would hear cars coming up our 350 foot gravel driveway, and run to the window to see who it was only to find nothing there! We were not the only ones who experienced this phemomenia. Anyone in the house would hear cars come down the driveway and run to the window in the kitchen to see who was arriving. During the twelve years we lived in the home, we tried to put it on the market twice. Both times we had Real Estate agents do open houses at the property. After the first open house each agent had, they told us they would never have another because they kept hearing cars come up the drive and no one would be there. There was also a time when I was speaking on the phone in the kitchen with my back facing the driveway and was sure I heard a car pull up the drive behind me--no one was there. There was another time when I was cleaning our family room! ! addition, which was between the main house and the garage, and heard my husband's car with his defective muffler come up the drive and in to garage next to where I was cleaning. I waited for him to come in the house, and finally went into the garage to see what was keeping him--no car and no husband. The garage was empty.
I would constantly see the young man in the black top coat and stove pipe hat out of the corner of my eye. On occassion I would also see a woman, but her sightings were rare.
As I said, many personal items in our home disappeared on a regular basis--at least one or two a month. Some times our ghost would return these items, and some times we never saw them again. The first time disappearance happened with decorater hand towels from the half bath on the second floor.
The home was a bungalow, so the second floor had one large bedroom, the attic, and a half bath. We were using this bedroom as the master bedroom at the time. The children's bedrooms were down stairs, and they never had a opporturnity to venture upstairs. One morning when I entered the bathroom I noticed that one of the decorator towels I had hanging on specially mounted towel rings was gone. Because I used these towels for decoration only, they were never used. I searched the entire house for the missing towel, and never did find it.
Another mysterious disappearance happened on the second floor as well--this time in the attic. My husband's grandfather had given him an antique .22 rifle before he died. Because I hated guns, I asked that my husband keep the rifle in the attic and that he never buy amunition for it. He promised to oblige, and placed the gun between two studs in the attic directly under the light swicth to the left of the attic door. One day, after we had guests staying in the second floor bedroom, I noticed the rifle was no longer where it was always kept. My first thought was that our guests perloined our rifle. I was very upset by this prospect, because the guests were relatives. To make sure I wasn't falsely accusing my cousin with taking the rifle, I removed everything we had stored in the attic in search of the missing weapon The rifle was not in the attic! Two weeks later I had to return to the attic and when I switched on the light, there was the gun, right where it had always been--between the studs under the light switch. My son had not been born yet at this time, and my daughter was only two years old and couldn't maneuver the attic door, so I was sure she had no part in the mystery. My husband also claimed ignorance. After that occurance, things came and went on a regular basis-- some came back and some never did.
Now though all this my husband kept telling me that there had to be a reasonable explaination for everything that had been happening in the home, but he could never come up with that explaination! The house being haunted was not an option for him--he didn't believe in anything he couldn't see!
Until one evening when I was at a class at the local college. He was in the bathroom taking a bath. Both children were in bed sleeping and he was relaxing in the tub. Suddenly he heard our two small dogs start barking. He assumed they were barking because I had come home from my class, (although they had never done that before!) After a few minutes, the dogs both became quiet at the same time. He waited to hear me come into the house, but minutes passed and he did not hear the back door open. What he did hear, however, was what he thought was someone in the living room crumpling up newspaper and dropping it to the floor. He was sure it was me doing this in an effort scare him. He called out my name several times, but only heard more crumpling of newspaper as a reply. After about five minutes he decided to get out of the tub to investigate, fully expecting to see the living room filled with balled up newspaper. What he saw, however, was an empty room, with our dogs under the couch looking as though they've been drugged. He never again told me I was crazy when I told him the house was haunted!
As I said, I saw the main ghost out of the corner of my all the time. Every time I would decend the stairs from my bedroom I would see someone peeking over the half wall above the stairway. When I would jerk my head around to see the area head-on, no one would be there. I would also see him at times while I was walking through the home.--again I would jerk my head in the direction of the spector, and no one would be there. It wasn't until I had sold the home and was a week from leaving it when the ghost appeared to me head on. I was alone in the home cleaning it. While in my son's room I turned toward the hallway and saw the ghost slowly pass by the door.
Naturally I was very upset, because as I said, I was alone in the house. I took a few deep breaths and waited to see if it would pass by the doorway again. When I saw nor heard nothing after a few minutes, I shrugged my shoulders, and continued with my cleaning. About ten minutes later I was in the livingroom cleaning in front of a huge picture window which overlooked the driveway and pine trees in front of the house. As I was kneeling in front of the plant stand, dusting it, I noticed that the atmosphere was changing around me. It felt like it did when taking off in a airplane at first. This was enough for me to stop what I was doing and pay attention to what was about to happen next. As I waited, I realized that the air had become very thick, as if it were water. I felt as though if I were to move my hand and arm in a swimming like jester, I would be able to feel the air move around me as if I were in a pool. As I thought this, I felt something move though the house, starting at the back door and continuing on to the living room and stopping right behind me were I was kneeling. It was a frightening experience to say the least! Every hair on the back of my neck stood straight out, as if I were in a cartoon! Although I was extremely fightened, I did not feel theatened by this invisable apparation. I said in a very calm voice, "I know you don't want me to leave, but I have to go. You may come with us if you want, but I do have to leave here." With that the atmosphere of the house returned to normal, and I felt the ghost leave the area. I never saw nor heard from the ghost again. I think it was his way of saying good bye.
When I saw the entity pass by my son's doorway, it was moving slowly enough to get a good impression of what he looked like. He was about 5'6" tall. He seemed to be about 30 years old, wearing a full beard and closely cut hair. He was wearing a long black overcoat, and a tall, black hat. I never felt theatened, (except for that first encounter with the cermic pot!), but rather that the ghost pertected us thoughout the years we dwelled there.
My husband worked a second job for most of the years we lived in the home, so my two oldest childern and I were in the home alone most of the time.
Just about every home in the neighborhood had been broken into at one time or another during the twelve years we lived in the home, but although our home was 350 feet back from the street and surrounded by trees, our home was never molested by burglers.
Many other incidents occurred in the home during our tweleve year stay. Some are very interesting.
----
North Royalton
Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 21:20:07 -0800 (PST)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
yourname MZZZZ B
email MZZZZ B@aol.com
I lived in a home in North Royalton, (surburb of Cleveland), Ohio for twelve years. All twelve years that my husband and two children lived there, we were not alone! For many years I was the only one in the family who could see our visitor-(I think we were the visitors!), but we all experienced paranormal phemomenina.
>From what I could piece together from neighbors and other sources, the
home was built by a police officer who lived there with his mother and father. This police officer had been assigned to the famous Sam Sheppard case, and was one of the detectives who investagated the case. This, however, has nothing to do with the ghost who was cooccupying the premisess. The home was built in 1946. The ghost must have been the owner of a home which was there before the present home was built, because he was dressed in the clothing of the mid 1800's.
My first indication that we were not alone came one evening about six months after we moved in. My oldest daughter was about a year and a half old at the time, (my son had not been born yet). We were in the basement doing laundry, when a heard a loud "thump" on the floor above me. My husband was working at his night-time job, so this really unnerved me. I was certain someone had knocked over one of my ceramic pots from one of the end tables in the livingroom. I was so frightened that I backed by daughter and I, as silently as I could, up the basements stairs and out the back door. We ran to a neighbors home and I called my husband to tell him that someone had broken into the house. While he was on the way home, a few neighbors decided to investigate. Two men from the neighborhood went into the house and searched it. When my husband came home fifteen minutes later he too joined the search. The only thing they found was my heavy hand made ceramic pot laying on its s! ! ide on the floor of the living room. This pot was always kept on the end table and was positioned in the middle of the table. It weighed at least six pounds, (more like ten pounds), and could not have vibrated off the table and on to the floor by a passing truck from the near-by freeway and the neighbors suggested. Besides, it near ended up on the floor again in the next twelve years I lived there!
After this incident, strange things began happening on a regular basis. For one thing every night, and even during the day, we would hear cars coming up our 350 foot gravel driveway, and run to the window to see who it was only to find nothing there! We were not the only ones who experienced this phemomenia. Anyone in the house would hear cars come down the driveway and run to the window in the kitchen to see who was arriving. During the twelve years we lived in the home, we tried to put it on the market twice. Both times we had Real Estate agents do open houses at the property. After the first open house each agent had, they told us they would never have another because they kept hearing cars come up the drive and no one would be there. There was also a time when I was speaking on the phone in the kitchen with my back facing the driveway and was sure I heard a car pull up the drive behind me--no one was there. There was another time when I was cleaning our family room! ! addition, which was between the main house and the garage, and heard my husband's car with his defective muffler come up the drive and in to garage next to where I was cleaning. I waited for him to come in the house, and finally went into the garage to see what was keeping him--no car and no husband. The garage was empty.
I would constantly see the young man in the black top coat and stove pipe hat out of the corner of my eye. On occassion I would also see a woman, but her sightings were rare.
As I said, many personal items in our home disappeared on a regular basis--at least one or two a month. Some times our ghost would return these items, and some times we never saw them again. The first time disappearance happened with decorater hand towels from the half bath on the second floor.
The home was a bungalow, so the second floor had one large bedroom, the attic, and a half bath. We were using this bedroom as the master bedroom at the time. The children's bedrooms were down stairs, and they never had a opporturnity to venture upstairs. One morning when I entered the bathroom I noticed that one of the decorator towels I had hanging on specially mounted towel rings was gone. Because I used these towels for decoration only, they were never used. I searched the entire house for the missing towel, and never did find it.
Another mysterious disappearance happened on the second floor as well--this time in the attic. My husband's grandfather had given him an antique .22 rifle before he died. Because I hated guns, I asked that my husband keep the rifle in the attic and that he never buy amunition for it. He promised to oblige, and placed the gun between two studs in the attic directly under the light swicth to the left of the attic door. One day, after we had guests staying in the second floor bedroom, I noticed the rifle was no longer where it was always kept. My first thought was that our guests perloined our rifle. I was very upset by this prospect, because the guests were relatives. To make sure I wasn't falsely accusing my cousin with taking the rifle, I removed everything we had stored in the attic in search of the missing weapon The rifle was not in the attic! Two weeks later I had to return to the attic and when I switched on the light, there was the gun, right where it had always been--between the studs under the light switch. My son had not been born yet at this time, and my daughter was only two years old and couldn't maneuver the attic door, so I was sure she had no part in the mystery. My husband also claimed ignorance. After that occurance, things came and went on a regular basis-- some came back and some never did.
Now though all this my husband kept telling me that there had to be a reasonable explaination for everything that had been happening in the home, but he could never come up with that explaination! The house being haunted was not an option for him--he didn't believe in anything he couldn't see!
Until one evening when I was at a class at the local college. He was in the bathroom taking a bath. Both children were in bed sleeping and he was relaxing in the tub. Suddenly he heard our two small dogs start barking. He assumed they were barking because I had come home from my class, (although they had never done that before!) After a few minutes, the dogs both became quiet at the same time. He waited to hear me come into the house, but minutes passed and he did not hear the back door open. What he did hear, however, was what he thought was someone in the living room crumpling up newspaper and dropping it to the floor. He was sure it was me doing this in an effort scare him. He called out my name several times, but only heard more crumpling of newspaper as a reply. After about five minutes he decided to get out of the tub to investigate, fully expecting to see the living room filled with balled up newspaper. What he saw, however, was an empty room, with our dogs under the couch looking as though they've been drugged. He never again told me I was crazy when I told him the house was haunted!
As I said, I saw the main ghost out of the corner of my all the time. Every time I would decend the stairs from my bedroom I would see someone peeking over the half wall above the stairway. When I would jerk my head around to see the area head-on, no one would be there. I would also see him at times while I was walking through the home.--again I would jerk my head in the direction of the spector, and no one would be there. It wasn't until I had sold the home and was a week from leaving it when the ghost appeared to me head on. I was alone in the home cleaning it. While in my son's room I turned toward the hallway and saw the ghost slowly pass by the door.
Naturally I was very upset, because as I said, I was alone in the house. I took a few deep breaths and waited to see if it would pass by the doorway again. When I saw nor heard nothing after a few minutes, I shrugged my shoulders, and continued with my cleaning. About ten minutes later I was in the livingroom cleaning in front of a huge picture window which overlooked the driveway and pine trees in front of the house. As I was kneeling in front of the plant stand, dusting it, I noticed that the atmosphere was changing around me. It felt like it did when taking off in a airplane at first. This was enough for me to stop what I was doing and pay attention to what was about to happen next. As I waited, I realized that the air had become very thick, as if it were water. I felt as though if I were to move my hand and arm in a swimming like jester, I would be able to feel the air move around me as if I were in a pool. As I thought this, I felt something move though the house, starting at the back door and continuing on to the living room and stopping right behind me were I was kneeling. It was a frightening experience to say the least! Every hair on the back of my neck stood straight out, as if I were in a cartoon! Although I was extremely fightened, I did not feel theatened by this invisable apparation. I said in a very calm voice, "I know you don't want me to leave, but I have to go. You may come with us if you want, but I do have to leave here." With that the atmosphere of the house returned to normal, and I felt the ghost leave the area. I never saw nor heard from the ghost again. I think it was his way of saying good bye.
When I saw the entity pass by my son's doorway, it was moving slowly enough to get a good impression of what he looked like. He was about 5'6" tall. He seemed to be about 30 years old, wearing a full beard and closely cut hair. He was wearing a long black overcoat, and a tall, black hat. I never felt theatened, (except for that first encounter with the cermic pot!), but rather that the ghost pertected us thoughout the years we dwelled there.
My husband worked a second job for most of the years we lived in the home, so my two oldest childern and I were in the home alone most of the time.
Just about every home in the neighborhood had been broken into at one time or another during the twelve years we lived in the home, but although our home was 350 feet back from the street and surrounded by trees, our home was never molested by burglers.
Many other incidents occurred in the home during our tweleve year stay. Some are very interesting.
I had a post all nice and written, and it goes 'Ma'am would you like to save me ma'am, before you flip over to update your template? No need to hit post ma'am, I can save it.' and I, the disgusting trustworthy fool I am beamed a little smile and happily clicked yes.
Lies, all they ever spout to me is lies.
New pictures and sounds up boys and girls! For those of you playing the sound game, here is another one that wasn't identifiable. What do you think it is?
I'm still accepting your photos, sounds, questions and personal stories so slide them on under the door. Hurry it up though would ya? I've got squat for the next post.
For those of you who want to enter the prize drawings and don't have a pop3 E-mail you can still enter. (Would I deny you the oppurtunity to own such crap? Of course I wouldn't!) Simply send your full name, postal address and e-mail address to me@kiddlets.com with the subject 'Prize drawing'. Make sure you get those in before tomorrow at 6 AM PST!
I'll also be giving away some fun little prizes during the blogathon. What are they? Not going to tell you, so you'll just have to wait. (Anything to stretch my posts out!) Those drawings use the same form (or e-mail) if you'd like to enter.
Lies, all they ever spout to me is lies.
New pictures and sounds up boys and girls! For those of you playing the sound game, here is another one that wasn't identifiable. What do you think it is?
I'm still accepting your photos, sounds, questions and personal stories so slide them on under the door. Hurry it up though would ya? I've got squat for the next post.
For those of you who want to enter the prize drawings and don't have a pop3 E-mail you can still enter. (Would I deny you the oppurtunity to own such crap? Of course I wouldn't!) Simply send your full name, postal address and e-mail address to me@kiddlets.com with the subject 'Prize drawing'. Make sure you get those in before tomorrow at 6 AM PST!
I'll also be giving away some fun little prizes during the blogathon. What are they? Not going to tell you, so you'll just have to wait. (Anything to stretch my posts out!) Those drawings use the same form (or e-mail) if you'd like to enter.
Third in a series of four stories from Mt. Holyoke.
----
My very lazy sister, Women of Rugby Players, related to me the following stories about the Mandels Dorm. For those of you who do not know the Mandels, it is a dorm on the campus located on the top of Mandel Hill. It's nestle amoung the treetops and looks quite forbiding.
The story has two variations. During a october the seniors of years gone by were hazing the freshman. Part of the the hazing process was to take the freshman up to the attic of the dorm and initiate them in any particularly degrading way the seniors could think of. One particular freshman was rather homesick and was having a hard time adjusting to the school. She did not really get into the hazing experience which angered the Hazers. They locked her in the attic and apparently forgot about her until milk and cooking time. When they went up to get her. One version of the story goes that they found her hung. The hazing had driven her to madness and suicide, not at all the intention of the Hazers. The attic was locked and is not accessable to the students.
The second version of the story tells that the Hazers left the freshman in the attic. As it got dark, it got scarry and she became upset and distraught. She yelled and screamed for quite a while but no one heard her because everyone was downstairs eating dinner. As she was trying to find her her way out, she fell down the stair in the dark to her demise.
These stories are given as explanations of why the doornob to the attic occasionally rattles as if someone is desperately trying to open it from the other side. The door is often found open, even though no one has the key. It also accounts for a tumbling sound that can be heard from the rooms that are closest to the attic stairs.
* a word about hazing.....it is no longer allowed at MHC. This story is supposed to have happened a long long time ago.
----
My very lazy sister, Women of Rugby Players, related to me the following stories about the Mandels Dorm. For those of you who do not know the Mandels, it is a dorm on the campus located on the top of Mandel Hill. It's nestle amoung the treetops and looks quite forbiding.
The story has two variations. During a october the seniors of years gone by were hazing the freshman. Part of the the hazing process was to take the freshman up to the attic of the dorm and initiate them in any particularly degrading way the seniors could think of. One particular freshman was rather homesick and was having a hard time adjusting to the school. She did not really get into the hazing experience which angered the Hazers. They locked her in the attic and apparently forgot about her until milk and cooking time. When they went up to get her. One version of the story goes that they found her hung. The hazing had driven her to madness and suicide, not at all the intention of the Hazers. The attic was locked and is not accessable to the students.
The second version of the story tells that the Hazers left the freshman in the attic. As it got dark, it got scarry and she became upset and distraught. She yelled and screamed for quite a while but no one heard her because everyone was downstairs eating dinner. As she was trying to find her her way out, she fell down the stair in the dark to her demise.
These stories are given as explanations of why the doornob to the attic occasionally rattles as if someone is desperately trying to open it from the other side. The door is often found open, even though no one has the key. It also accounts for a tumbling sound that can be heard from the rooms that are closest to the attic stairs.
* a word about hazing.....it is no longer allowed at MHC. This story is supposed to have happened a long long time ago.
Second in a series of four stories at Mt. Holyoke.
----
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: lawrence.pilon@the-spa.com
Subject: MT. HOLYOKE SPOOKS
Date: Thu, 29 Dec 94 02:56:23
This is a story told to me by my lazy sister who attended Mt. Holyoke and enjoyed many fun times spooking herself and her friends. The first story involves a darling student who live in the Pearsons dorm on the second floor in a large room over the dining room. It seems that one night in the 60's the student, we'll call her "Moon Flower" (MF), was experimenting with LSD. Well, the story goes that she took a little too much. She freaked and there were no brown acid counselors available. The story goes that she went into the closet and started to borrow into the wall with her nail. Hands bloodied, she crawled into the hole.
The next day her friends missed her at breakfast and began to worry about her. They knocked at her door, but heard nothing. They knew she had not left her room so they asked the resident assistant to open the door to check on her. When they looked into room, they noticed it was in disaray, but didn't see anything. They entered the room and began looking around and finally found her in the closet. She was curled up in a fetal position in the hole she had created. From the expression on her face she died at alone, frightened and tortured by the demons her mind had created. MF came from a good family and her death was most shocking to her family. To avoid scandal, the school refused to acknowledge that the incident had happened. They repaired the damage to the room and mysteriously did not place any more students in that particular room. They turned it into a storage room. The resident assistant is the only one to have the key. The room remains locked at all times yet strangely, the room appear open from time to time. Students, not really knowing the history of the building have reported hearing footsteps, scratching sounds and very low weaping comming from this room while eating in the dining room below.
The chandalier also moves a bit when you hear the footsteps, and yet when knowing students have investigated incident and listen for sounds through the door, they hear nothing.
----
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: lawrence.pilon@the-spa.com
Subject: MT. HOLYOKE SPOOKS
Date: Thu, 29 Dec 94 02:56:23
This is a story told to me by my lazy sister who attended Mt. Holyoke and enjoyed many fun times spooking herself and her friends. The first story involves a darling student who live in the Pearsons dorm on the second floor in a large room over the dining room. It seems that one night in the 60's the student, we'll call her "Moon Flower" (MF), was experimenting with LSD. Well, the story goes that she took a little too much. She freaked and there were no brown acid counselors available. The story goes that she went into the closet and started to borrow into the wall with her nail. Hands bloodied, she crawled into the hole.
The next day her friends missed her at breakfast and began to worry about her. They knocked at her door, but heard nothing. They knew she had not left her room so they asked the resident assistant to open the door to check on her. When they looked into room, they noticed it was in disaray, but didn't see anything. They entered the room and began looking around and finally found her in the closet. She was curled up in a fetal position in the hole she had created. From the expression on her face she died at alone, frightened and tortured by the demons her mind had created. MF came from a good family and her death was most shocking to her family. To avoid scandal, the school refused to acknowledge that the incident had happened. They repaired the damage to the room and mysteriously did not place any more students in that particular room. They turned it into a storage room. The resident assistant is the only one to have the key. The room remains locked at all times yet strangely, the room appear open from time to time. Students, not really knowing the history of the building have reported hearing footsteps, scratching sounds and very low weaping comming from this room while eating in the dining room below.
The chandalier also moves a bit when you hear the footsteps, and yet when knowing students have investigated incident and listen for sounds through the door, they hear nothing.
The first in a series of four stories about the same area. I'm posting this for entertainment only, I do want to add that I don't agree with 90% of the opinions formed about Ouiji boards. Ask me why, and I'll tell you. Otherwise, read on!
----
Mt. Holyoke Stories
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: lawrence.pilon@the-spa.com
Subject: MT HOLYOKE SPOOKS 6
Date: Thu, 29 Dec 94 02:56:23
My very lazy sister related the following story to me. It seems that in the Pearsons, where my sisters friends roomed, they liked to play with the ouija board. The important thing to note is that generally this dorm is party dorm. There is lot of negative energy in the building due to all the problems and stress that the occupants experience.
My sister was told this by a very knowlegeable senior who was into the occult when they invited her to join them in their ouija game. She warned them it was very dangerous to participate in this activity there. She was so scared that she did not even want to touch the box.
They didn't heed her warning and proceeded with what they thought was a game. They lit candles and placed them all over the room. The lights were kept on also in an effort to attract good spirits. They also washed their their "Crystals" in salt in order to purify them to ward off evil spirits. Some insence was also burned. They began by putting the board on the floor and asked questions. At first the pointer moved and spelled out jibberish. My sister was one of the Pointer operators. Her hands were normal temperature for the first couple of minutes. She then began to feel as if her hands grew colder and that the tips of her fingers were being pressed upon. The tips of her fingers also felt very warm. The pointer began to move very eratically and violently across the board. The pointer even flew off the board. They initially had asked the board silly questions like whom they were going to marry, but no questions had been posed to the board when the pointer went out of control. The room began to really cool down and the candles began to flicker even though the windows were closed tightly.
They then proceeded to put the board on their legs because everyone wanted to sit closer together for security and to keep each other warm. The movement of the pointer continued to be eratic and their legs, where the board touched them, became numb and cold. The board stopped it' eratic movements and everyone felt it would be good to call it a night.
Later in the week and for a couple weeks later, the occupants of the room experienced many strange phenomena. They had their sheets pulled off them, a comforter (a heavy one) was pulled completely off the bed. Objects, like books, could be heard to fall within the room, but when they looked everything was normal and no books could be found. They also heard a knocking at their window, which could not have been done by anyone since they lived on the top floor of Pearson. They were thouroughly spooked.
They decided not to play with the ouija any more in the building. They did go to a local cementary, but nothing happened. They were all disapointed, but none of the Pearsons residents wanted to volunteer their room to be haunted by a Ouija Spirit.
----
Mt. Holyoke Stories
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: lawrence.pilon@the-spa.com
Subject: MT HOLYOKE SPOOKS 6
Date: Thu, 29 Dec 94 02:56:23
My very lazy sister related the following story to me. It seems that in the Pearsons, where my sisters friends roomed, they liked to play with the ouija board. The important thing to note is that generally this dorm is party dorm. There is lot of negative energy in the building due to all the problems and stress that the occupants experience.
My sister was told this by a very knowlegeable senior who was into the occult when they invited her to join them in their ouija game. She warned them it was very dangerous to participate in this activity there. She was so scared that she did not even want to touch the box.
They didn't heed her warning and proceeded with what they thought was a game. They lit candles and placed them all over the room. The lights were kept on also in an effort to attract good spirits. They also washed their their "Crystals" in salt in order to purify them to ward off evil spirits. Some insence was also burned. They began by putting the board on the floor and asked questions. At first the pointer moved and spelled out jibberish. My sister was one of the Pointer operators. Her hands were normal temperature for the first couple of minutes. She then began to feel as if her hands grew colder and that the tips of her fingers were being pressed upon. The tips of her fingers also felt very warm. The pointer began to move very eratically and violently across the board. The pointer even flew off the board. They initially had asked the board silly questions like whom they were going to marry, but no questions had been posed to the board when the pointer went out of control. The room began to really cool down and the candles began to flicker even though the windows were closed tightly.
They then proceeded to put the board on their legs because everyone wanted to sit closer together for security and to keep each other warm. The movement of the pointer continued to be eratic and their legs, where the board touched them, became numb and cold. The board stopped it' eratic movements and everyone felt it would be good to call it a night.
Later in the week and for a couple weeks later, the occupants of the room experienced many strange phenomena. They had their sheets pulled off them, a comforter (a heavy one) was pulled completely off the bed. Objects, like books, could be heard to fall within the room, but when they looked everything was normal and no books could be found. They also heard a knocking at their window, which could not have been done by anyone since they lived on the top floor of Pearson. They were thouroughly spooked.
They decided not to play with the ouija any more in the building. They did go to a local cementary, but nothing happened. They were all disapointed, but none of the Pearsons residents wanted to volunteer their room to be haunted by a Ouija Spirit.
A new featured sound and some new photos are up. If anyone has any ideas about the new sound, perhaps what it sounds like, leave a comment.
I'm going to run out of old sounds in about five hours, so I'm going to start going through the tapes that I have from last night to see if we got anything. Hopefully we did! We spent about three hours out there last night and it was pretty quiet other then a couple of people visiting and some bats.
The graveyard is (from the pictures I'm sure you can tell) pretty remote. It's located outside Silverton, Oregon and is an old pioneer cemetary. It's not full though, so new people are buried there every now and then. The most unnerving thing about the graveyard to me are the churches windows. They're very tall and line the sides of the building, after dark I always have the feeling I'm being watched from them. (I'm sure I am too!)
We found it about four years ago while driving around aimlessly looking for new places to investigate. It's a great spot (other then the busy road in front of it) there are no nearby sounds or homes that really cause any problems. Unfortunatly, that also is it's biggest downside. Since there isn't anyone close to keep an eye on it, the vandilizim has gotten very bad. Recently some people broke off quite a few of the already dilapidated tombstones, and there has been alot of garbage there the last few times I've been. The garbage recenly has even included underwear.
Now, as much as I like seeing other peoples undies, I could have done without that.
I'm going to see if some people will run out and grab another cameras worth of photos for me so I can continue with four an hour, I'll also ask them to tape a little more to see if maybe we get some good EVPs.
Up next, another fun ghost story!
I'm going to run out of old sounds in about five hours, so I'm going to start going through the tapes that I have from last night to see if we got anything. Hopefully we did! We spent about three hours out there last night and it was pretty quiet other then a couple of people visiting and some bats.
The graveyard is (from the pictures I'm sure you can tell) pretty remote. It's located outside Silverton, Oregon and is an old pioneer cemetary. It's not full though, so new people are buried there every now and then. The most unnerving thing about the graveyard to me are the churches windows. They're very tall and line the sides of the building, after dark I always have the feeling I'm being watched from them. (I'm sure I am too!)
We found it about four years ago while driving around aimlessly looking for new places to investigate. It's a great spot (other then the busy road in front of it) there are no nearby sounds or homes that really cause any problems. Unfortunatly, that also is it's biggest downside. Since there isn't anyone close to keep an eye on it, the vandilizim has gotten very bad. Recently some people broke off quite a few of the already dilapidated tombstones, and there has been alot of garbage there the last few times I've been. The garbage recenly has even included underwear.
Now, as much as I like seeing other peoples undies, I could have done without that.
I'm going to see if some people will run out and grab another cameras worth of photos for me so I can continue with four an hour, I'll also ask them to tape a little more to see if maybe we get some good EVPs.
Up next, another fun ghost story!
It's Q&A time boys a girls! Gather around on the pretty ghost shaped carpet because our next question comes from Tornarius over at Neko and Nezumi.
Q: Are there any ghosts at all that can hurt another person? And if so, what types?
A: Geesh, give me hard questions why don't you. I have heard stories about hauntings which involve entities that cause small harms like scratching and hair pulling. I've actually had my hair pulled and been pinched on several occasions. My personal theory is that spirits are just people without bodies, and you have to assume that if they can kick you in life there is no reason they can't kick you in death.
I don't think you find truly malevolent spirits all that often, if ever. Usally the types of spirits that I've found to cause small annoying 'harms' are mearly ones that want attention. Most of the time these are small children or just playful ghosts.
There are people who have documented violent spirits, but I've never run into any. I would think that those would be people who were extremely angry in life and didn't let it go in death.
If you asked a question, worry not! I've started a list of questions and I'll get to them all. In the mean time give me s'more!
Note: These answers are my opinion, everyone's got one and some people may disagree with mine. That's spiffy. Also, I'm tired so my answers may not be coherent or well written. I apologize in advance for every grammical and spelling error I'll make for the rest of the Thon. I'm running on a couple hours sleep and a bad week. Thank you, come again.
Q: Are there any ghosts at all that can hurt another person? And if so, what types?
A: Geesh, give me hard questions why don't you. I have heard stories about hauntings which involve entities that cause small harms like scratching and hair pulling. I've actually had my hair pulled and been pinched on several occasions. My personal theory is that spirits are just people without bodies, and you have to assume that if they can kick you in life there is no reason they can't kick you in death.
I don't think you find truly malevolent spirits all that often, if ever. Usally the types of spirits that I've found to cause small annoying 'harms' are mearly ones that want attention. Most of the time these are small children or just playful ghosts.
There are people who have documented violent spirits, but I've never run into any. I would think that those would be people who were extremely angry in life and didn't let it go in death.
If you asked a question, worry not! I've started a list of questions and I'll get to them all. In the mean time give me s'more!
Note: These answers are my opinion, everyone's got one and some people may disagree with mine. That's spiffy. Also, I'm tired so my answers may not be coherent or well written. I apologize in advance for every grammical and spelling error I'll make for the rest of the Thon. I'm running on a couple hours sleep and a bad week. Thank you, come again.
A post that has nothing to do with ghosts, and more to do with the Blogathon. Are you having a heck of a time keeping those time zones straight? Do you like fish? Do you like to bathe once a year or more? Well do I have the website for you.
Foam Bath Fish Time will satisfy every one of those needs above, while teaching you the important skill of time telling in different zones.
New photos and sounds abound boys and girls. I'm answering questions next post, so get them to me.
Foam Bath Fish Time will satisfy every one of those needs above, while teaching you the important skill of time telling in different zones.
New photos and sounds abound boys and girls. I'm answering questions next post, so get them to me.
This hours ghost story, updated photos and sounds will come next half hour!
Date: Sat, 23 May 1998 16:05:23 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
yourname Believer
email LadyRelm2@aol.com
Reading these stories just made me remember an experience that I had buried because it had disturbed me so deeply.
My mother,stepfather, and I were spending the night at my stepfather's mother's house. I am not sure how old the house is, but his mother collects antiques. Her house if full to the brim with them. I was staying in a spare bedroom in between my stepfather's room and his mother's room. His mother's house was far into the country and her only neighbor within miles was an Amish family about 1/2 mile down the road.
The overhead light in my bedroom was an antique chandalier. I am not sure how old it was or it's history. It was cast iron and shaped in a circle. It scared me because it had what looked like daggers even spaced around the circle form of it. Even more disconcerting...it hung just directly over my bed so I would lay in bed and have to stare up at it.
My stepdad is into playing guitars so there were several guitars around the room on stands. Since the room always scared me to death, I would always sleep with a lamp on next to the bed. I laid awake for a long time scared to death because of that chandalier....I am not sure when I feel asleep but as I was sleeping I could hear something going on in the room. I couldn't tell exactly what but as I started to wake up, I could hear things. I could hear a very VERY loud growling. I can't really explain it very well.... it was not like a dog or anything but more gutteral....the closest I can come to it is sort of like a lion. I could also hear a lamb in the background....it was bleating like it was terrified. The other noise that I could hear as I was waking was the guitars. They were all playing but the music coming from them was very course. The more I began to awaken the louder the noise got....as my brain began to make sense of what I was hearing.....I snapped my eyes open and sat up
I sat awake the rest of the night. I was scared to death. No one else had awakened or heard anything.
I found out later that day that the Amish family down the street had lost a lamb that night. The scary part of it was that it just disappeared. Their dogs never barked (nor did my stepdad's dog) and there was no sign of disturbance in the barn or anywhere.
My steddad's mother has never reported anything supernatural from her house. However....I never slept in that bedroom again.
Date: Sat, 23 May 1998 16:05:23 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
yourname Believer
email LadyRelm2@aol.com
Reading these stories just made me remember an experience that I had buried because it had disturbed me so deeply.
My mother,stepfather, and I were spending the night at my stepfather's mother's house. I am not sure how old the house is, but his mother collects antiques. Her house if full to the brim with them. I was staying in a spare bedroom in between my stepfather's room and his mother's room. His mother's house was far into the country and her only neighbor within miles was an Amish family about 1/2 mile down the road.
The overhead light in my bedroom was an antique chandalier. I am not sure how old it was or it's history. It was cast iron and shaped in a circle. It scared me because it had what looked like daggers even spaced around the circle form of it. Even more disconcerting...it hung just directly over my bed so I would lay in bed and have to stare up at it.
My stepdad is into playing guitars so there were several guitars around the room on stands. Since the room always scared me to death, I would always sleep with a lamp on next to the bed. I laid awake for a long time scared to death because of that chandalier....I am not sure when I feel asleep but as I was sleeping I could hear something going on in the room. I couldn't tell exactly what but as I started to wake up, I could hear things. I could hear a very VERY loud growling. I can't really explain it very well.... it was not like a dog or anything but more gutteral....the closest I can come to it is sort of like a lion. I could also hear a lamb in the background....it was bleating like it was terrified. The other noise that I could hear as I was waking was the guitars. They were all playing but the music coming from them was very course. The more I began to awaken the louder the noise got....as my brain began to make sense of what I was hearing.....I snapped my eyes open and sat up
I sat awake the rest of the night. I was scared to death. No one else had awakened or heard anything.
I found out later that day that the Amish family down the street had lost a lamb that night. The scary part of it was that it just disappeared. Their dogs never barked (nor did my stepdad's dog) and there was no sign of disturbance in the barn or anywhere.
My steddad's mother has never reported anything supernatural from her house. However....I never slept in that bedroom again.
You can now enter to win some junk that you don't need (but don't worry, it's fun junk) by clicking on the image above and filling out the form. More (slues! lol) of prizes will be added as the `Thon continues.
I will do a little cap of each prize in just a few minutes, just incase you want to know what you could win. If you're the type of person who enjoys getting weird things from weird unknown girls in the mail then cover your eyes and hum the Smurf theme for a few bit, so I don't spoil it for you.
I will do a little cap of each prize in just a few minutes, just incase you want to know what you could win. If you're the type of person who enjoys getting weird things from weird unknown girls in the mail then cover your eyes and hum the Smurf theme for a few bit, so I don't spoil it for you.
New photos and sounds are up.
In just about 45 minutes I'll be opening the page where you can sign up to win some fun prizes. It's easy, all you have to do is fill out a simple form and you'll be entered into the drawing. Winners will be notified 48 hours after the 'Thon is finished.
Prizes include memberships to OPIT, books, paranormal investigation gear and fun metaphysical woo-woo type stuff.
Thanks to OPIT and my other private donators for the prizes!
In just about 45 minutes I'll be opening the page where you can sign up to win some fun prizes. It's easy, all you have to do is fill out a simple form and you'll be entered into the drawing. Winners will be notified 48 hours after the 'Thon is finished.
Prizes include memberships to OPIT, books, paranormal investigation gear and fun metaphysical woo-woo type stuff.
Thanks to OPIT and my other private donators for the prizes!
Now I'll answer a couple questions I've been asked about Paranormal Investigating. If you have any questions you want answered (I'll feature this on and off all day) just drop me an E-mail or leave me a comment with your question.
Question two is also from Kelly over at Hell and Bliss.
Q: What kind of equipment do you use?
A: We use all kinds of equipment. Here's a partial list and the reasons why.
Flashlights -
Obviously you can figure out what these are for!
Extra Batteries -
Because you never know when you need them
Mini and Normal Tape Recorders -
Tape recorders are great for picking up any sound that you can't hear. Sounds picked up from tape are called EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomenon).
Compass -
Sometimes fluxes in energy can cause a compass to move. This is a great way to figure out what spots to take pictures in. That takes us to the next one.
Cameras. Instant, digital and 35 mm -
Cameras are a huge tool in cataloging paranormal activity. Things seen on film run from orbs and vortexes to complete manifestations.
Digital thermometers -
Great for reading the temp where you want to take a picture or near static equipment like tape recorders. Changes in energy causes things like 'cold spots' and a Thermometer is a great tool for cataloging those types of occurances.
Those are some of the equipment we use, I've got lots more so next hour I'll post a few more of the stuff that's in all my bags of crap.
Question two is also from Kelly over at Hell and Bliss.
Q: What kind of equipment do you use?
A: We use all kinds of equipment. Here's a partial list and the reasons why.
Flashlights -
Obviously you can figure out what these are for!
Extra Batteries -
Because you never know when you need them
Mini and Normal Tape Recorders -
Tape recorders are great for picking up any sound that you can't hear. Sounds picked up from tape are called EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomenon).
Compass -
Sometimes fluxes in energy can cause a compass to move. This is a great way to figure out what spots to take pictures in. That takes us to the next one.
Cameras. Instant, digital and 35 mm -
Cameras are a huge tool in cataloging paranormal activity. Things seen on film run from orbs and vortexes to complete manifestations.
Digital thermometers -
Great for reading the temp where you want to take a picture or near static equipment like tape recorders. Changes in energy causes things like 'cold spots' and a Thermometer is a great tool for cataloging those types of occurances.
Those are some of the equipment we use, I've got lots more so next hour I'll post a few more of the stuff that's in all my bags of crap.
This hours ghost story, remember if you have a ghost story of your own you'd like to share, just send it to me!
Nursing Home
Date: Tue, 23 Jun 1998 09:31:24 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
address anonymous
About six years ago, I started working as a nurse's aide at a nursing home.
I heard other employees talking about the ghost of a little boy, but I just dismissed the idea. It seems as though every nursing home and hospital has that type of rumor circulating. Anyway, I worked the 3 - 11 shift, and one of my jobs was to put the residents to bed. Most of the residents I took care of had severe cases of Alzheimer's disease. Most were able to talk and carry on a conversation, but if I approached them five minutes later, they had no idea who I was, let alone remember that they had just had a conversation with me. This is important because it proves it was not just a case of the residents trying to pull a fast one on the employees.
I remember the first time I heard one of the residents talk about the little boy. I heard a resident talking to himself in his room, so I went in to see what was going on. I asked him who he was talking to, and he said, "That little boy right there." Of course, I did not see anybody. Another time, a woman was having a hard time sleeping. I asked her what the problem was. "That little boy keeps coming in and talking to me," she said. This type of thing happened to me often - usually at least two or three times a week. It occured with several different residents, not just two or three. And they all described the boy exactly the same. He was about five or six years old, wearing bib overalls, and had black curly hair. He never caused any harm, and there was no physical evidence such as things moving on there own. But it was always the residents who where in a confused state of mind who saw him. Residents who had all their mental capacities never saw him, and neither did employees. I did some research, and found out from some local people who have lived in the area for years that about 50 years ago on Route 66 (which runs right next to the nursing home and is now just a service road) a young boy fitting that description was killed in a car accident.
Nursing Home
Date: Tue, 23 Jun 1998 09:31:24 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
address anonymous
About six years ago, I started working as a nurse's aide at a nursing home.
I heard other employees talking about the ghost of a little boy, but I just dismissed the idea. It seems as though every nursing home and hospital has that type of rumor circulating. Anyway, I worked the 3 - 11 shift, and one of my jobs was to put the residents to bed. Most of the residents I took care of had severe cases of Alzheimer's disease. Most were able to talk and carry on a conversation, but if I approached them five minutes later, they had no idea who I was, let alone remember that they had just had a conversation with me. This is important because it proves it was not just a case of the residents trying to pull a fast one on the employees.
I remember the first time I heard one of the residents talk about the little boy. I heard a resident talking to himself in his room, so I went in to see what was going on. I asked him who he was talking to, and he said, "That little boy right there." Of course, I did not see anybody. Another time, a woman was having a hard time sleeping. I asked her what the problem was. "That little boy keeps coming in and talking to me," she said. This type of thing happened to me often - usually at least two or three times a week. It occured with several different residents, not just two or three. And they all described the boy exactly the same. He was about five or six years old, wearing bib overalls, and had black curly hair. He never caused any harm, and there was no physical evidence such as things moving on there own. But it was always the residents who where in a confused state of mind who saw him. Residents who had all their mental capacities never saw him, and neither did employees. I did some research, and found out from some local people who have lived in the area for years that about 50 years ago on Route 66 (which runs right next to the nursing home and is now just a service road) a young boy fitting that description was killed in a car accident.
Wow, almost ten already! Time does go by fast when you're rushing around trying to get things done.
Since I've already updated the sounds and photos for this hour (next update will be around 10:30) and I've already fed you a ghost story for this hour as well, I'll answer a couple questions I've been asked about Paranormal Investigating. If you have any questions you want answered (I'll feature this on and off all day) just drop me an E-mail or leave me a comment with your question.
Question one comes from Kelly over at Hell and Bliss.
Q: How do you choose locations to investigate?
A: We get locations to investigate in various ways. Sometimes they're submitted by people who know others in the group. Sometimes we're contacted by people who want us to investigate a spot for them. We also stumble over areas (like graveyards) at times, and decide it might be worth looking into.
Once we get a submission for a place to investigate, we follow some guidelines we've set for our group in deciding if it's a place that we want to look into. This usally involves researching history and interviewing people if neccessary. If we decide that we'd like to try an Inves. there, we then schedual a informal or formal investigation depending on the type of location it is.
After a while, your investigation areas just build up to a bunch of regular haunts. (ok ok, I'm sorry)
Since I've already updated the sounds and photos for this hour (next update will be around 10:30) and I've already fed you a ghost story for this hour as well, I'll answer a couple questions I've been asked about Paranormal Investigating. If you have any questions you want answered (I'll feature this on and off all day) just drop me an E-mail or leave me a comment with your question.
Question one comes from Kelly over at Hell and Bliss.
Q: How do you choose locations to investigate?
A: We get locations to investigate in various ways. Sometimes they're submitted by people who know others in the group. Sometimes we're contacted by people who want us to investigate a spot for them. We also stumble over areas (like graveyards) at times, and decide it might be worth looking into.
Once we get a submission for a place to investigate, we follow some guidelines we've set for our group in deciding if it's a place that we want to look into. This usally involves researching history and interviewing people if neccessary. If we decide that we'd like to try an Inves. there, we then schedual a informal or formal investigation depending on the type of location it is.
After a while, your investigation areas just build up to a bunch of regular haunts. (ok ok, I'm sorry)
A ghost story for this 30's post.
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Reflection/Dream or Real?
Date: Wed, 02 Apr 1997 23:01:24 GMT
I've been fortunate enough to find a bunch of older stories on Obiwan's Home Page and fell in love with the fact that people aren't afraid to tell their stories. So I tracked down your newgroup and am attempting my first post. Here goes, bear with me.
I will post more later if it's received well.
This one took place when I was very little, about 5 or 6. We had just moved into a new house, about a block down the street from where my two brothers had been born. The previous owners had taken less than perfect care of the house and the back porch, (which was enclosed) was filled with bags of garbage. It took my parents, with me helping (mostly getting under-foot), almost two weeks to make the house clean enough to move into.
Once that was taken care of, I plodded myself upstairs, proclaiming loudly that the room at the top of the stairs was mine, that Elizabeth had said she'd share. My parents looked at me strangely, but shrugged and chalked it up to an overactive imagination, but giving into my request for the room.
About a month after moving in completely, I went to bed; tossing and turning, unable to sleep (I think the first day of Kindergarten was the next day...). As I rolled from facing the wall to facing my dresser across the room, I had a feeling that something in the room just didn't seem right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Focusing my eyes as best I could, I realized that I was seeing my reflection in my dresser mirror. But, no, wait, I didn't have a blue nightgown on! I did a double-take.
A girl of about 16 or 17 stood in front of the only window in my room, clad in a pale blue gown, but white otherwise. She seemed to staring into the backyard for some reason. As I watched her, I began to drift off to sleep, feeling nothing menacing about her. Then suddenly, that changed.
The temperature in the room dropped almost 20 degrees as she slowly turned from the window and looked straight at me.
At first I was stunned. But as she began to approach the bed, her face changed from it's calm facade to a truly malevolent portrait. At about the same time, I remember a music box of mine beginning to play in the background (odd thing to happen, though my mother confirms this).
Downstairs, my mother heard the music box start and came up to see if I was out of bed and to yell at me. Halfway up the stairs, she says, she heard me scream. All I remember is Elizabeth fading as my mother burst into the room and the music immediately stopping at the same time.
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Reflection/Dream or Real?
Date: Wed, 02 Apr 1997 23:01:24 GMT
I've been fortunate enough to find a bunch of older stories on Obiwan's Home Page and fell in love with the fact that people aren't afraid to tell their stories. So I tracked down your newgroup and am attempting my first post. Here goes, bear with me.
I will post more later if it's received well.
This one took place when I was very little, about 5 or 6. We had just moved into a new house, about a block down the street from where my two brothers had been born. The previous owners had taken less than perfect care of the house and the back porch, (which was enclosed) was filled with bags of garbage. It took my parents, with me helping (mostly getting under-foot), almost two weeks to make the house clean enough to move into.
Once that was taken care of, I plodded myself upstairs, proclaiming loudly that the room at the top of the stairs was mine, that Elizabeth had said she'd share. My parents looked at me strangely, but shrugged and chalked it up to an overactive imagination, but giving into my request for the room.
About a month after moving in completely, I went to bed; tossing and turning, unable to sleep (I think the first day of Kindergarten was the next day...). As I rolled from facing the wall to facing my dresser across the room, I had a feeling that something in the room just didn't seem right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Focusing my eyes as best I could, I realized that I was seeing my reflection in my dresser mirror. But, no, wait, I didn't have a blue nightgown on! I did a double-take.
A girl of about 16 or 17 stood in front of the only window in my room, clad in a pale blue gown, but white otherwise. She seemed to staring into the backyard for some reason. As I watched her, I began to drift off to sleep, feeling nothing menacing about her. Then suddenly, that changed.
The temperature in the room dropped almost 20 degrees as she slowly turned from the window and looked straight at me.
At first I was stunned. But as she began to approach the bed, her face changed from it's calm facade to a truly malevolent portrait. At about the same time, I remember a music box of mine beginning to play in the background (odd thing to happen, though my mother confirms this).
Downstairs, my mother heard the music box start and came up to see if I was out of bed and to yell at me. Halfway up the stairs, she says, she heard me scream. All I remember is Elizabeth fading as my mother burst into the room and the music immediately stopping at the same time.
Added a 'featured sound' in which I will feature past and present sounds found in the graveyard. These sounds will change once an hour, and any new sounds from the tapes recorded last night will be announced here.
At noon I will be opening the drawing to give away prizes that have been donated. Current prizes are the following, prize details will be explained more on the prizes page.
Misc:
A pair of brass dowsing rods
3 OOS or IS memberships to OPIT
Books:
Historic Haunted America - By Michael Normal and Beth Scott
Poltergeusts & The Paranormal - Dr. Phillip Stander & Dr. Payl Schmolling
The Enchanted World - Ghosts - Time Life Books
A Winters Haunting - Dan Simmons
More prizes may be announced as the day goes on. Thanks for everyone who donated prizes!
At noon I will be opening the drawing to give away prizes that have been donated. Current prizes are the following, prize details will be explained more on the prizes page.
Misc:
A pair of brass dowsing rods
3 OOS or IS memberships to OPIT
Books:
Historic Haunted America - By Michael Normal and Beth Scott
Poltergeusts & The Paranormal - Dr. Phillip Stander & Dr. Payl Schmolling
The Enchanted World - Ghosts - Time Life Books
A Winters Haunting - Dan Simmons
More prizes may be announced as the day goes on. Thanks for everyone who donated prizes!
Manda just brought up a very good question, she wanted to know if I'll accept other peoples graveyard photos.
The answer is 'YEP!' if you have a graveyard (or ghost/orb/ect) photo send it my way and I'll feature it as a guest photo. If I get enough of them, I'll try and do a few each hour. Just ship them on over to me.
Also, send me your ghost stories, encounters, and sounds too if you've got them.
The answer is 'YEP!' if you have a graveyard (or ghost/orb/ect) photo send it my way and I'll feature it as a guest photo. If I get enough of them, I'll try and do a few each hour. Just ship them on over to me.
Also, send me your ghost stories, encounters, and sounds too if you've got them.
Four new graveyard pictures for your viewing pleasure. Also moved the past photos to the 'past photographs' page so that if you wish, you can view the past photos.
Crap I'm boring.
Check out Wendy, who just got sent two pictures of the outhouse in the graveyard to add to her plethora of potty pictures.
Crap I'm boring.
Check out Wendy, who just got sent two pictures of the outhouse in the graveyard to add to her plethora of potty pictures.
So, blogger's screwing up.
It's giving me like one line to write with, so I can't see a darn thing I'm writing.
While I'm fixing it, here is a ghost story for your reading pleasure.
Uninvited Guest
By Kelly Carr | Photo by Roberto Westbrook : July 15, 2003 (Tue)
Blood on the floor.
A window that won't open.
Glass shards in the soil.
Karen Gregory haunts this house.
Almost 19 years after her murder, the house on the corner of 27th Avenue South and Upton Street in Gulfport has changed from white to green. The front door is in a different spot. A six-foot fence lines the yard now. An Akita barks at strangers. People either avoid it or pursue it. They imagine the inside or refuse an invitation. For some residents it is still a crime scene; for outsiders, a tourist attraction. Gregory still lingers. But for the last nine years it has been Stephanie Bartolotta's home. "No one wanted to come in," she said. "People ask: 'Is it haunted? What have you seen?'" Ten years before Bartolotta bought the house in 1994, Gregory's body was found in the hallway. After fighting an intruder from her bedroom and reaching as far as the porch, she was stabbed repeatedly. Gregory's struggle ended outside her bedroom. Her body was surrounded by bloody footprints. Neighbors heard her scream, but no one called the police. The body of Gregory, a 36-year-old graphic artist, was found almost two days later wearing a white T-shirt and black teddy. In 1986 George Lewis, a St. Petersburg firefighter who lived catty-corner from Gregory, was arrested. Lewis was convicted of first-degree murder and sexual battery. He is serving a life sentence in Tomoka Correctional Institution in Daytona Beach. When she moved into the house, Bartolotta chose Gregory's room. Neighbors told her the bed is in the same spot as the murdered woman's. At night, Bartolotta looks through the window the killer used to escape. To get to the bathroom, she turns right outside her bedroom over unfinished hardwood flooring. The path forces her steps, each day, over the spot where Gregory died. Before she bought the house, Bartolotta knew little of the murder. She was living in Indian Rocks Beach but was planning a move to Gulfport. While driving past the property on 27th Avenue South, a real estate agent
said:
"You don't want that one."
Bartolotta moved into the house on Halloween in 1994. There was a witch's hat greeting her on the counter of her new orange kitchen. Almost immediately, as hairs rose on the back of her neck and arms, she realized where she had moved. For years to come, kids skipped her house when trick-or-treating. Neighbors would dodge her parties altogether or limit themselves to the yard. "You live in a murder house, lady," people would tell her all the time. In the first years, Bartolotta would glance out her front window at people staring back. Drivers and passengers would sit in parked cars hoping for a glimpse. Some would snap a quick picture; others brought a video camera. Inside the house the layout has stayed pretty much the same. From the living room, Bartolotta stares at an oak tree in her yard and at neighbors in theirs. Across the street the Neighborhood Crime Watch sign is still visible in the yard of George Lewis' old house. Bartolotta once saw a figure standing behind her -- Was it Gregory? -- in the mirror. "Hey I'm thinking about this," she says to Gregory. She will sort through colors and furniture placement, always consulting the lingering presence that no one can see. "I do it because I want her to know I really love this house," Bartolotta said. Today with each court appeal by Lewis, the memories of the murder are sustained in the house. For Bartolotta, this 19-year-old case is very much alive. Years ago, Gulfport police dug up her yard looking for a murder weapon. Twice, she has been asked to leave her house for business involving Lewis' appeals. And she said her animals spend hours, motionless, staring at one specific wall. In the last few years, most of the traffic to Bartolotta's house has stopped. The spectators aren't as frequent. A few neighbors have decided to finally visit. Kids take her candy, although she usually has to meet them outside. "When driving by that house I personally get a feeling of remorse, loss," said Gulfport resident Jack Anderson, who lived five blocks away from the murder. "We kinda just turn away from it. The house is in a shadow all the time." For Bartolotta, the shadow cast on her house is impossible to escape. Under her oriental rug in the living room, blood spots are still visible. Are they Gregory's? Strange odors fill the rooms; footsteps are heard by her mother. Her bedroom window broke when she tried to open it. The memories in the house haunt Gulfport. It makes neighbors, those who remember Gregory's screams, cringe. Children curious. And Bartolotta still asking questions. Unable to open the front door on her wedding day seven years ago, Bartolotta was forced to remove it from its hinges. Her marriage lasted one week. Did someone not want her to go out, she wondered? Was someone telling her the decision was wrong? Was it Gregory?
It's giving me like one line to write with, so I can't see a darn thing I'm writing.
While I'm fixing it, here is a ghost story for your reading pleasure.
Uninvited Guest
By Kelly Carr | Photo by Roberto Westbrook : July 15, 2003 (Tue)
Blood on the floor.
A window that won't open.
Glass shards in the soil.
Karen Gregory haunts this house.
Almost 19 years after her murder, the house on the corner of 27th Avenue South and Upton Street in Gulfport has changed from white to green. The front door is in a different spot. A six-foot fence lines the yard now. An Akita barks at strangers. People either avoid it or pursue it. They imagine the inside or refuse an invitation. For some residents it is still a crime scene; for outsiders, a tourist attraction. Gregory still lingers. But for the last nine years it has been Stephanie Bartolotta's home. "No one wanted to come in," she said. "People ask: 'Is it haunted? What have you seen?'" Ten years before Bartolotta bought the house in 1994, Gregory's body was found in the hallway. After fighting an intruder from her bedroom and reaching as far as the porch, she was stabbed repeatedly. Gregory's struggle ended outside her bedroom. Her body was surrounded by bloody footprints. Neighbors heard her scream, but no one called the police. The body of Gregory, a 36-year-old graphic artist, was found almost two days later wearing a white T-shirt and black teddy. In 1986 George Lewis, a St. Petersburg firefighter who lived catty-corner from Gregory, was arrested. Lewis was convicted of first-degree murder and sexual battery. He is serving a life sentence in Tomoka Correctional Institution in Daytona Beach. When she moved into the house, Bartolotta chose Gregory's room. Neighbors told her the bed is in the same spot as the murdered woman's. At night, Bartolotta looks through the window the killer used to escape. To get to the bathroom, she turns right outside her bedroom over unfinished hardwood flooring. The path forces her steps, each day, over the spot where Gregory died. Before she bought the house, Bartolotta knew little of the murder. She was living in Indian Rocks Beach but was planning a move to Gulfport. While driving past the property on 27th Avenue South, a real estate agent
said:
"You don't want that one."
Bartolotta moved into the house on Halloween in 1994. There was a witch's hat greeting her on the counter of her new orange kitchen. Almost immediately, as hairs rose on the back of her neck and arms, she realized where she had moved. For years to come, kids skipped her house when trick-or-treating. Neighbors would dodge her parties altogether or limit themselves to the yard. "You live in a murder house, lady," people would tell her all the time. In the first years, Bartolotta would glance out her front window at people staring back. Drivers and passengers would sit in parked cars hoping for a glimpse. Some would snap a quick picture; others brought a video camera. Inside the house the layout has stayed pretty much the same. From the living room, Bartolotta stares at an oak tree in her yard and at neighbors in theirs. Across the street the Neighborhood Crime Watch sign is still visible in the yard of George Lewis' old house. Bartolotta once saw a figure standing behind her -- Was it Gregory? -- in the mirror. "Hey I'm thinking about this," she says to Gregory. She will sort through colors and furniture placement, always consulting the lingering presence that no one can see. "I do it because I want her to know I really love this house," Bartolotta said. Today with each court appeal by Lewis, the memories of the murder are sustained in the house. For Bartolotta, this 19-year-old case is very much alive. Years ago, Gulfport police dug up her yard looking for a murder weapon. Twice, she has been asked to leave her house for business involving Lewis' appeals. And she said her animals spend hours, motionless, staring at one specific wall. In the last few years, most of the traffic to Bartolotta's house has stopped. The spectators aren't as frequent. A few neighbors have decided to finally visit. Kids take her candy, although she usually has to meet them outside. "When driving by that house I personally get a feeling of remorse, loss," said Gulfport resident Jack Anderson, who lived five blocks away from the murder. "We kinda just turn away from it. The house is in a shadow all the time." For Bartolotta, the shadow cast on her house is impossible to escape. Under her oriental rug in the living room, blood spots are still visible. Are they Gregory's? Strange odors fill the rooms; footsteps are heard by her mother. Her bedroom window broke when she tried to open it. The memories in the house haunt Gulfport. It makes neighbors, those who remember Gregory's screams, cringe. Children curious. And Bartolotta still asking questions. Unable to open the front door on her wedding day seven years ago, Bartolotta was forced to remove it from its hinges. Her marriage lasted one week. Did someone not want her to go out, she wondered? Was someone telling her the decision was wrong? Was it Gregory?
Alright, fixed the layout so it dosen't shlump over the ad blogspot sticks on my site.
I'll be posting pictures in about five minutes, and I'm starting on the sound reviews now!
For those of you Thonners out there who haven't, come by the IRC Chat Room (qubic.localirc.net #blogathon) and say hi! There are a bunch of us there already and we always need more.
I'll be posting pictures in about five minutes, and I'm starting on the sound reviews now!
For those of you Thonners out there who haven't, come by the IRC Chat Room (qubic.localirc.net #blogathon) and say hi! There are a bunch of us there already and we always need more.
Good morning boys and girls! Woohoo, another `Thon!
I'm sitting in my office because, if you read above, my laptop had a small accident while it was in the shop. So, no graveyard for us, dear bloggers, unless I manage to get my hands on a laptop sometime soon. I shall see what I can do, but I won't make any promises. So, if it dosen't go through, you can't beat me a bunch. Ok?
Until then I will be posting four pictures an hour taken from the graveyard last night, as well as reviewing my tapes and posting any sounds I find. I'll be posting some ghost stories from people I know, and ones I've collected from around the net, as well as tips and tricks on forming your own Investigation Team. I will also be giving away some fun stuff starting at noon, so make sure you check back.
I apologize for the not quite finished layout, I didn't get a whole lot of time to work on it, since I spent the last three days dealing with problem after problem with my gimmick. What isn't open will be by nine at the latest.
I'm sitting in my office because, if you read above, my laptop had a small accident while it was in the shop. So, no graveyard for us, dear bloggers, unless I manage to get my hands on a laptop sometime soon. I shall see what I can do, but I won't make any promises. So, if it dosen't go through, you can't beat me a bunch. Ok?
Until then I will be posting four pictures an hour taken from the graveyard last night, as well as reviewing my tapes and posting any sounds I find. I'll be posting some ghost stories from people I know, and ones I've collected from around the net, as well as tips and tricks on forming your own Investigation Team. I will also be giving away some fun stuff starting at noon, so make sure you check back.
I apologize for the not quite finished layout, I didn't get a whole lot of time to work on it, since I spent the last three days dealing with problem after problem with my gimmick. What isn't open will be by nine at the latest.
Alright, template for the Blogathon is up. I know it's not the best in the world but it'll do for 24 hours at least.
Here is the scoop boys and girls (for those of you joining us by linkage or webring). Due to circumstances totally beyond my control, and about a million different problems that butted their way into my Gimmick I won't be able to blog from the graveyard as planned.
The nice guys who were fixing my laptop that up and decided it was going to break on Thursday accidently had another peice break off that they weren't able to replace by closing today (Friday). Unfortunatly this left me high and dry with no way to blog from the graveyard. This is also making me feel like a total fibber that should be flogged, in the not nice way even!
If I manage to find a laptop sometime in the next 15 hours and if I can manage to find the data cable that has magically vanished (Oh yes, what a fun week it's been) I will transplant myself out to the Graveyard for the last few hours of the `Thon. I can't make any promises though.
Until then, keep an eye out on this space. I've got tons of photos and audio from the graveyard and all the links that aren't open will be soon. I've got prizes to give away and I promise that I'll try my best to figure out how to spend the dark hours in the graveyard tomorrow night attempting to convince the zombies that my brains really are tasty and worth the trouble.
Until then, I'm headed off to grab some sleep before I come back over to finish this layout up. All you fellow `Thonners, have a great night and I'll see ya in the morning.
Here is the scoop boys and girls (for those of you joining us by linkage or webring). Due to circumstances totally beyond my control, and about a million different problems that butted their way into my Gimmick I won't be able to blog from the graveyard as planned.
The nice guys who were fixing my laptop that up and decided it was going to break on Thursday accidently had another peice break off that they weren't able to replace by closing today (Friday). Unfortunatly this left me high and dry with no way to blog from the graveyard. This is also making me feel like a total fibber that should be flogged, in the not nice way even!
If I manage to find a laptop sometime in the next 15 hours and if I can manage to find the data cable that has magically vanished (Oh yes, what a fun week it's been) I will transplant myself out to the Graveyard for the last few hours of the `Thon. I can't make any promises though.
Until then, keep an eye out on this space. I've got tons of photos and audio from the graveyard and all the links that aren't open will be soon. I've got prizes to give away and I promise that I'll try my best to figure out how to spend the dark hours in the graveyard tomorrow night attempting to convince the zombies that my brains really are tasty and worth the trouble.
Until then, I'm headed off to grab some sleep before I come back over to finish this layout up. All you fellow `Thonners, have a great night and I'll see ya in the morning.