When I was very young I had a horrible habit of talking to
myself. My grandma would always ask me who was it I was talking too. It
would scare the crap out of my mom. She thought demons had came for me and
tried to anoint me with holy oil every chance she had. My father was and
still is a firefighter and at the time in the mid 80's he helped with the
Fireman's Fair for burn victims.

I was about 5 or 6. My mom, my dad and I
were at a local fair. Now it is funny, because I didn't put 2 and 2
together until my early 30's and it would explain now why my mom went all
'Holy Roller' on me at such a young age. However I remember I was playing
on the Jumpy Castle and I was accompanied by a little girl named Jessica. I
can remember her to this day. She wore a pink little jacket, blue jeans
and she had no hair and blue eyes. 90% of her body was burned to a crisp.
Her skin looked like an over cooked hot dog. I personally didn't think
anything of it and I wasn't scared of her. We just bounced around and
talked about what 6 year old girls talk about age, birthdays and there was
a bit of weird conversation about nationalities. She told me what was
hers and I had no clue what was mine. So my parents came and got me then
yanked me off of the Jumpy Castle and we proceeded to go home.

They were both very angry with me and I proceeded to ask them questions which
Jessica had asked me. My mom got even more upset at me and told me to be
quiet and get in the car. I seriously thought Jessica was a burn victim
and the fair was for her and other little kids like her. I didn't know no
one else could see her. (So I guess I was talking to myself again) It
occurred to me a few years ago as an adult that a little girl of 6 would
never have been able to survive a massive burn wound like that and I
looked at my friend at the time and I said.. you know now that I think
about it.. that little girl might've not been physically there.

I have always been mostly skeptic, with a few exceptions. I've
rationalized almost everything after X amount of time, and I've even tried
to rationalize this story, so I'm posting it to prove to myself later what
happened with the memory fresh.

My mom works for the church and knows everybody, so she's always renting
out my babysitting services (which is usually pretty okay, as I am paid
rather well by most). I will never babysit at this house again.
It was fairly standard: 6:00 to 10:00, dinner and bed. The kids were
Hannah (5) and Nolan (3), and their mom wanted to make sure I remembered
to let their dog out frequently. Hannah was a little sweetheart and gave
me a picture of my name with a poorly colored heart as soon as I walked in
the door. Needless to say, everything was a breeze.
Bedtime was even pretty easy, and I was soon sitting on the couch watching
TV making $2.50 an hour.

Less than a minute before my favorite show, the TV turned off. And after a
moment of frustration with the remote, so did the lights.
I'm going to make it clear now that it was not a ghost-related blackout,
it was all over the neighborhood and I could see the flashlights waving
around in other houses through the windows and everything. I started
looking for one of my own after checking to make sure the kids were still
asleep.

At the top of the stairs near their bedroom was where I started getting
paranoid, looking over my shoulder before descending.
I went down the stairs and grabbed my coat on the way to the kitchen (the
temperature was dropping fast with the heat being off, typical in
Michigan). But rather than finding a decent light source in the
child-proof kitchen, I ended up just using my iPod screen. The iPod was
the only thing in my pocket at the time, which I distinctly remembered
later.

Anyway, I still tried to find another source of light; paranoia.
Now, there was a big front room at the bottom of the stairs that was
easily the lightest, with a huge window that took up half the wall and it
was sparsely decorated, making it invitingly open. Since you could see the
whole room from the hallway, I didn’t notice that I hadn’t been in the
room before until after the fact.

This is about where I will start to rationalize in a few months.
The room felt indescribable, but if I would make any comparison it would
be like walking through the shallow end of the pool. That resistant-type
feel. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable enough to walk straight through the
room into the kitchen, rather than stop there as I had planned. But the
paranoia eventually came and found me and I went to seek the light again
after a few minutes of rationalizing. After going up to check on the kids
once more, I went back into the room.

I can’t remember what happened first after entering: I started crying and
fell to my hands and knees, in whichever order. I don’t know why I did
either, but I ended up crawling to the window sill for dear life and
crushed my back to the glass, unable to trust my unprotected back to the
darkness long enough to cross the room.

I’m a black belt, so it’s fairly embedded knowledge in my brain that if
your opponent has your back, you’re in trouble. I’m not sure if the
principle applies here, but I’ve gotten hit enough times to practically
have a complex on the matter.

So I was stuck. I used that time there to notice and try to figure out WHY
there were tears on my cheeks.
I should probably mention here, too, that my iPod was off now (I probably
hit a button when I fell) so it was totally silent. Fear came in pulses
for no reason and I started saying things like ‘go away’ and ‘leave me
alone’, which shocked my senses every time I broke the silence. I don’t
remember what I thought I was talking to exactly (probably to just the
horrible feeling in general, if that doesn’t sound too pathetic), but it
helped me stay aware of myself rather than let my imagination go.

Remember their dog that I mentioned earlier? He heard me and came over,
his claws making a clicking sound on the floor that nearly stopped my
heart. But he sat outside the room and he would not come in even though I
called him desperately, afraid to be alone as I was. He looked at me, then
looked out into the center of the room for a moment, then walked away.
I’ve read enough ghost stories to believe animals are more aware of
spirits than us, so this freaked me out quite a bit more.

After a few moments of his movement, the house fell silent again. I wasn’t
even speaking anymore; I was listening to see if the kids woke up since
I’d stirred at least the dog. Silence was probably the worst possible
thing that I could have let happen, because as soon as I decided everyone
was probably still asleep, I began feeling it too.

I felt like a hand grabbed my right arm from behind. I can remember
exactly what it felt like, even through the fear distortion in my brain:
it felt like the hand of an old woman, thin and brittle, but like a
grandparent’s where you couldn’t tear away anyway. It didn’t feel like I
thought a ghost would. It felt like her hands were cold, but more than
cold they felt clammy, almost sweaty even; and though I never looked down
to see it, I’m convinced that there was a ring on her ring finger that was
silver with a little diamond. I can remember the exact width of the hand
too; it was a very jarring and memorable experience.

The hand shifted to my right shoulder, then too. It held me right in the
corner where my shoulder became my neck. There were never two hands on me,
but I don’t remember any transition between the two grabs.
I sat there like that for however long, completely unable to move. I don’t
know how long it was (no clocks worked), but the traces of tears on my
cheeks had time to dry. What finally brought me out of the immobility was
a telephone ringing.

I still don’t know why that one landline worked when nothing else did, but
I prayed hard that night in thanks for it. As soon as the sound shattered
the silence, everything was gone; the hand, the fear, the thickness of the
air, everything.

I waited for my ride home in a fetal position as close to that phone as I
could get.
Nothing else happened that night until I went to get in to my mom’s car to
go home and I put my hands in my pockets to protect them from the outside
cold. In my right hand pocket there were two things: my iPod, and Hannah’s
picture of a suddenly very ominous-looking heart and my name in red
crayon.

I still have the picture too.

My name is Maggie and this is what started to happen to me when
I was five years old . When school was done for the summer. I don't know if
you can call this a ghost story. But here goes, that night I went to
bed and I had a dream about my uncle going out with his best friend Dan to
party because my uncle was getting married the following Saturday and I was to be his
flower girl at the wedding. 

Anyway, in my dream I saw my uncle and Dan they were drinking beer.
I see my uncle put some beer into the trunk of his car, and
at the same time I hear my uncle tell Dan They will have some more once
they where back in Canada (they were over to port Huron in America). Dan was
not happy about this and reached for a beer. My uncle stopped him from
getting the beers. 

Dan got very mad and he took a tool bar from the trunk and started
to hit my uncle on his head, neck, and chest. My uncle was laying on the
street, it was then that Dan saw what he did. he put him in the car saying
"I know were the hospital is" and it would be "faster for him to take
him there". My uncle died on the way to the hospital.

At this point is when I wake up. I was upset &
crying and I ran and told my uncle about my dream, and if he and Dan went
out that night he would never come back alive. And that is what really
did happen and Dan went to jail for murder.

About a week after my Uncle's murder, I wake up
and see my uncle standing at foot of my bed! He said don't worry about me
I'm okay and he will watch over me . All the time he was there I only
heard these word in my head, and I will be okay. 

Bedtime....

Submitted by "Mary Mendoza."
Hailing from: Houston TX
Where it happened: Glenhaven home
Posted on: 2/28/2009

I have had an encounter at my cousin's home. I was sleeping and I
felt something climbing onto my bed! I was alone at this time it was behind me, I
jumped out of bed not knowing what was in this room. I checked down stairs,
nothing, I looked through the monitors nothing, so I proceeded back to the room when
I felt as though I was being watched. It seemed scary at the time, but I
don't forget the feeling I felt that night while trying go back to sleep. As
I slowly fell back to sleep I still felt scared, but as I decided to let
whatever was behind do what it wanted to do. As  I thought this the ghost was
again right behind me! I could feel it climbing onto the bed until it was right
behind me! It wrapped itself around me and tried suffocate me. I was so afraid that
I screamed for it to leave and to leave me alone. I called my cousin and
the same had happened to her and she didn't mention it to me. I was upset
but more curious as to what was in this room? I still wonder about it. I'm
sure this house is still on the market, it belonged to my cousin at the time.
If possible I would like to learn more about this house and if someone died
there.

Thank you for your story Mary. The best way to find out is to research the house itself by going through county records and such. This sounds similar to an "old hag" experience, except for the really creepy crawling into the bed sensation that you had! I would not sleep there again!

Little Boy Blue....

Submitted by "Liz G."
Hailing from: Broken Arrow OK
Where it happened: Tulsa OK
Posted on: 2/28/2009

This happened to me when I was 10 or 11. My mom had just
re-married and we moved in to a new house at first everything seemed fine
but then strange things started happening. The first thing was we were all
in the living room watching TV when we heard a loud BOOM coming from the
kitchen. My mom, sister and me ran to see what it was. When we got there
the lights on the ceiling fan had all exploded there was glass everywhere.
We thought it was strange but didn't really think much of it until the
next day.

I was walking barefoot to the back door and stepped on a piece of
glass. When I looked down there was glass from the broken light all over
the ground. I thought maybe someone took out the trash and some of the
glass had fallen out. Then I went in and saw the trash had not yet been taken
out.

That night we were walking the dog with my mom and when we got back
my step dad was sitting on the porch scared to death. We asked what
happened and he said he was watching a baseball game when all the doors
flew open! At first he thought it was the wind, but when he got up to shut
them he saw that the deadbolt on the front door was still engaged.

We were all freaked out but things could still be somewhat explained, maybe the
door was never really shut and that's why the deadbolt was engaged when the
door opened.

A few nights later my mom heard children crying so she went
to check on us but we were all still asleep. She saw a shadow out of the
corner of her eye that looked like a little boy. So she called out my
little brothers name and turned to see that there was nothing there.

Then things happened with more frequency remember this was the 80's and we had
the old cable controller that you would have to push buttons on the big
box thing to change the channel well there were several times that the
channels on the TV would change really quick if you looked down at the box
it looked like an invisible finger was running across the buttons.

The last thing that happened was the night I actually saw the little boy. I woke up in the
middle of the night feeling like I was going to throw up, I got up and went
to the bathroom, when I was finished I stood up and thought I saw a shadow,
but nothing was there. We had kind of gotten used to these things by now so
I headed out to let my mom know that I didn't feel well. When I came out
of the bathroom I saw a little boy that was about 4 or 5 standing by the
kitchen staring at me. He was the cutest little boy wearing a little
sailor suit and had these big sad eyes. He started crying and when I
started towards him he was gone, but I could hear the faint sound of a child
crying. Shortly after that my step dad told the landlord that we wanted to
move so we moved to another house the landlord owned.

So very creepy Liz! I wonder if that little child had died while living in that house at some point. Was it an older home? I bet that little boy loved to play with the remote control for the TV.