It's truly amazing what one little "i" can do to the roster!

Roister Ghostly LIbrary

And you thought we were speaking with a Brooklyn accent, didn't You?

(Anyone seen Fluffy ?)

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And now, without further Adieu, we bring you

(For your reading pleasure)

Another Truly Unique

Ghostories Visitor Library

With a Whole New

Batch of Chilling Ghost Tales

(Have I Ever Lied to You Before?)

So bring the family

Roast up some popcorn

Write your Congressman

And Dangerous Liasons

Taxi Drivers

Association Presidents

. . . and be sure to wear your

~..~ Finest tuxedo ~..~

(PJ's acceptable as long as cleaned and pressed)

And now we begin with our first accounts in the

Roister Library


Apple of My Pie
by Mark Nance
Hailing From: Grove City, Ohio
Where it Happened:
At Home

In my old house I was sitting up after my mom put me to bed. I was reading a magazine when I heard a creak in the hallway. I looked out and into the hallway, but nobody was there. I went back and just told myself that it is a old house and it does that. Well it happened again and then I was getting scared.

I went back into the hallway and I saw that a light was on in the kitchen. As I looked, I saw a women standing at the counter and she was wearing ragged clothes. She turned around and smiled at me. I smiled back, and she said in a eerie but calm voice, "What's your name?"

I told her my name and asked her who she was, but she wouldn't tell me -- and then she walked away through the door, the shutters went up and the lights went off.

And then all I kept hearing until the time I woke up, "WHAT'S YOUR NAME, WHAT'S YOUR NAME, WHAT'S YOUR NAME, WHAT'S YOUR NAME . . "

Over and over and over until the morning, when I walked back into the kitchen before anybody else was up, and the flour and eggs were out -- and there were three apple pies sitting on a table.


I like this one because it has all the great elements of ghost viewing -- floors creaking, lights going on and off, strange people walking through doors (literally) -- and my all time favorite, ghosts who'll come and cook goodies for you while your sleeping!

Do me a favor, next time this happens, can you send her over to my house? I love fresh baked apple pie -- well, and pecan, cocoanut creme, black forest cake, cheese cake, chocolate mousse . . . darn, I'm getting hungry just thinkin' about it!

Seriously, Mark, thanks for sending it in. I just wonder why she would bake you three pies, apple even. What's the significance? And to want to know your name too. Very strange and different encounter, dontcha think?

I suppose though, that if we were going to invite a ghost to "Roister" with us, having one who wants to bring the dessert is a very good one indeed!



Over Here We Have All Sizes
by Raymund Nigell C. Abarquez
Hailing From: Talisay, Cebu, Philippines
Where it Happened:
At Home

We live in our grandma 's house in Talisay where but strange things have been going on ever since we lived there. We lived there because my grandma is all alone, and we pity her -- so I guarantee this is 100% TRUE!

There are lots of strange things in that old house. It's nice on the inside, but it looks kinda scary from the outside -- and what's more, the following creatures we have encountered there are the ones that totally freaked me out:

Ghost - A physic once told us that there is a lady in the house. At first, I laughed at the idea that a ghost would go and mess up in our house. I first saw her when I was watching television It was kinda weird because I would hear a spiritual whisper telling me to look to my side. But since I was watching television, I just saw a lady in my not-focused eye, and feeling so scared, I ran to my grandma's room. Well, she still appears to me in my not focused eye . . . but now I'm used to it. They told me she just wants help for some unfinished business.

Baby Ghost - Just like the one above, but this one plays like a little kid, and does the things that little kids do -- and this one I saw once focused. He looks like a cute baby who runs around the house but he's DEAD!

Dwarf - Well I didn't see it but the thought of what my maids say is really freaky (well, it is true because, as they say, we have a big lot right beside our house and that those magical "dwarves" protect the land with their elements of nature.

"Sigbin" or "Giant Rat Monster that Jumps like a Kangaroo" - This one is not very scary but my maid saw a rat as big as a Spitz Bitch jumping around our lot beside our house.

"Engkantadas" or "Enchanted People of Nature" - There are lots of scary stories about this people actually and this particular one happened in my grandpa's house. He lives near a wide scary deep river with lots of bamboo towers and giant trees and one time we brought a physic there. The first visit she was looking in the river, late at night, and saw a very large ship filled with faceless people who brought with them bags and stuff -- then they all disappeared in the large trees and bamboo towers. And that boat was so bright, the physic could hardly bear looking at it.

In that same place there was also a man who committed suicide who also shows up in the river bank -- and even scarier, the ghost showed up with no head.

"Santelmo", a Damned "Fiery" (covered with flames) - soul who needs help to go to heaven and rest in peace. Many people who passed by the bridge would often see the fire man hitching a ride to the cemetery late at night.


Now, here we have a lot of candidates for a Roister! Sounds like the whole fan-damily!

Although I realize that a few of the tales you sent in aren't really firsthand (although many of them were), I find it interesting to hear some of the different types of ghosts as they are described in other countries -- and for this I thank you for sending them in.

I had once thought of visiting the Philippines, but I dunno, after this, maybe Sea World or Lego Land might be a better choice, ya think?




Near Misses
by Patty Hutchison
Hailing From: Bourbon, MO
Where it Happened:
Shaw Park -- St. Louis, MO

The following incident is significant because it put me on the path where I am today, and it will be important to know when I submit my other stories.

On Saturday, Halloween day, 1992, my friend Debbie and I decided to go to a neighborhood park in St. Louis (bordering on South Grand & Arsenal, -- for those who hail from there!). We'd stopped at our favorite donut shop then went to a little lake we knew of to sit and gossip. There happened to be a wedding photo group there at the same time, so we sat on a bench nearby and critiqued the dresses, etc.

I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, and Debbie and I chattered for about 15 minutes before she got an odd look on her face and whispered to me, "What is this? A rumble?"

I cautiously glanced around and saw several youths drawing up to the lake on various sides. Debbie said "I think it's time we leave. Walk slowly and don't look back at them."

We got up and began walking to my car, some 300 yards off. We got about halfway there when we heard pop-pop-pop.

Being a city girl, it didn't register in my brain what it was at the moment; it sounded like firecrackers. Needless to say, that's not what it was.

"GET DOWN!!" she screamed, and before I could react, Debbie had thrown me down on the ground as she was going down herself.

I know we both were praying as this occurred. Suddenly, the shooting got louder and we both realized that there was a gunman firing about three feet behind me, over our heads. The way we were laying on the ground, Debbie could see behind me and I could see behind her.

She told me not to look, so I just kept my head down. We heard clicking and cursing -- the guy's gun jammed. He ran off.

As suddenly as it began, it was over, and all the gang members were running their separate ways. Badly shaken but not hurt, we took off running to my car, jumping in and flooring it to her house a few blocks away.

When we were safely inside and slightly more calm than we had been, Debbie said, "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. I was warned about this and I didn't listen."

I asked what she meant.

She said her father appeared to her in a dream the night before. I don't remember the details exactly, but it was in the kitchen with the back door open. In the dream, she knew, he was warning her about some danger and wanted her to be careful.

Debbie's father died when she was a teenager; at the time of the occurrence, she was in her late twenties.

A weird, though not really scary, closure:
At the time of this occurrence, Debbie and I worked together at a local newspaper and our office was based in the basement of City Hall, sharing a room with an office attached to the Recorder of Deeds. Four ladies worked for the city there and we knew them pretty well. On Monday morning, one of them described how her daughter had come to her the previous Saturday afternoon and told her of the horrific shoot-out that had occurred at her friend's wedding party in the park near the lake . . . .

No one was hurt, but the limo took two slugs in the door and fender. Prior to the shooting, both Deb and I would have long discussions about the afterlife, ghosts & etc., and we are both believers in the powers of the mind and spirit, but the experience set me on a path of dealing with spirits that I still encounter today. These will be submitted (for your approval) at a later date.


I've heard that one of the reasons they call this thing we live, "life," is that things, even the most unexpected, can happen in a split-second that can totally change how you relate to your surroundings forever. It sounds like you lived through one of them.

There are times, though, that we listen to the warnings, and there are others that, I suppose, if we listened to all the warnings we'd never go outside. Who would have figured that at such a nice setting with such a wonderful event going on, that the moment could be chaosed into such calamity?

I don't usually soap box here, but I've thought about writing our congressmen, senators, etc. and asking for them to consider a change in our laws like the one where if you are driving in a freeway construction zone and the new signs say, "Penalties in a Construction Zone are twice the fines." I think we need something similar for places that are supposed to be "safe for recreation" -- places people are supposed to go to enjoy with their families and be outdoors -- and not only small parks, but state and national parks too (especially relating to that recent series of events in Yosemite).

What do you think? Should we start writing? Would it help?

Most of all, I'm glad you're still here with us to share your stories, and we'll look forward to more in the future. Thanks a bunch and stay safe, live to an old age and be happy.




The Grey Lady
by Laura
Hailing From: Mission Beach, Queensland, Australia
Where it Happened:
Eastbourne in England

This story comes from my Aunty Jean. When she was alive she worked as a nursing sister in a hospital in the south of England in the county of Sussex. One night she was asked to work at a nearby hospital that she was unfamiliar with as they were short-staffed. She was sent to work in the intensive care ward.

During her shift Aunty Jean had seen an old nurse in a grey uniform (not blue as the Hospital Board typically required) emerge from the room of a critically ill patient. At tea break she asked the other nurses about this strangely dressed nurse and was told that she'd seen the "Grey Lady."

Apparently the "Grey Lady" was a ghost from the previous century that is regularly seen on the ward and, whenever she is seen coming out of a patient's, room that patient always recovers -- presumably because she has been ministering to them.

The nurses were then sure that Mr. "X", who was in that room, would make a full recovery - and he did. My aunt had no knowledge of the history of the hospital or the ghost but had actually seen what she thought was a nurse on staff at the hospital -- but dressed in a different uniform, possibly working like she was that night as a visiting nurse from another hospital.


Thanks for the account, Laura. We appreciate it!

In these days of HMOs and PPOs, gelcaps, generics, and geriatrics, I am sure that many of us would wish if life ever found us in the "building with the white walls, call buttons and electric beds," that the "Grey Lady" would proffer a visit upon our humble countenances.

I do wonder why sometimes that some receive these types of visits, when others do not. Kind of sad, isn't it, to think of it that way. I guess my wish for those suffering all over the world is to have enough grey ladies to go around [;~)




Allow Me to Introduce You
by Cristina Ferguson
Hailing From: Spokane, Washington
Where it Happened:

Back in 1986 when my daughter was three years old, she was playing in her bedroom and I was watching "All My Children" on television, when all of the sudden she came out of her room asking me to tell the "man" to leave her alone. Startled because she and I were the only ones in the house at the time, I said what man, she said the man in my room he keeps talking to me. So I got up and went into the room and looked for this "man" -- in fact I decided to look all over the house for this "man," and could not find him.

I then made sure all the doors and windows were locked, and I told my daughter that there is no " man " in the house, so she went back to playing. About 10 minutes later she came back into the living room and announced, "Tell the "man" to leave me alone!"

This time I freaked out and told her, "Dana, there is no "man" in the house. I looked everywhere for him I do not see anyone here."

And she replied to me, "He's right here!"

I asked, "Where?" and she pointed to the hallway -- and she acted like she was holding someone's hand.

I asked, "What are you doing?"

She replied, "He just wants to say 'Hi' to you."

Incredulous and opened mouthed, I asked, "Me?"

What happened next sent chills down my spine.

My three year old daughter "walked" with this "man" to the wall as if she was still holding his hand.

I asked her, "What does the "man" want?

She said, "He says he loves you."

I asked her for the "mans" name and she said simply, "Monk."

Almost in shock I got out, "What did you say?"

She looked up at this "man" and said (as if to the air), "What did you say your name was? -- and then she once again looked back at me and said, "Monk."

I asked her several times if the "mans" name was "Monk" and everytime she said yes. By then I was freaking out by then because my grandfather's nickname was "Monk."

Still not believing, I told her this isn't funny -- and she said, "He just wanted to tell you he loves you, and he wanted to say, "Hi."

I asked her to described him, and she then described my grandfather to a "T".

You see my grandfather died in 1969 in Illinois when I was 4 years old. It was so long ago there is no way my three year old could have possibly known his name or what he looked like because we did not acquire any pictures of him until 1991.

That was the only time my child had an encounter, but what an "encounter" it was!


.........Yes it was! Wow! I'll hold off on comments this time . . . . this is a great story and I am absolutely speechless!! Thanks for sending it in, it was great! .-- Keno




Help From Above
by Cristina Ferguson
Hailing From: Spokane, Washington
Where it Happened:

I was doing research on my family tree on the Internet when my daughter Cathryn, who is 2 1/2 years old, said "Look mommy, papa!" I asked where he was and she pointed to the side of the computer. I said there is no one there, Cati, she just kept saying mommy papa, papa . . .

I told her to go and watch her cartoons, and then I continued with my research. I was getting frustrated because I could not find my great grandfather anywhere on the ancestry files. I screamed aloud, "Leo, where the heck are you!" and my daughter jumped up and said, "Here he is mommy! Papa!"

Frustrated, I told her, "No Cati! There is no one there."

But she kept insisting papa was there.

Then, all of the sudden some papers I had by my computer fell, and the first one to catch my eye was So I picked it up and instead of typing in the whole name, I typed in just the last name and was able to find his son. Even though his son died in 1971, his wife was still alive and it gave me her phone number. So I called the number and was able to get a whole lot of info on my great grandfather.

After I found the information in the fallen stack of papers, and before I made the call to my great aunt, my daughter said to the side if the computer, "Bye bye papa."

I figured he heard me calling and had helped me find him.


Excellent story, Christina. Thanks for sending it in!


Got Art?



Invisible Knockers
from a story called "Mr. Knock, Knock" by Scott Luckoff
Hailing From: Shakopee, Minnesota
Where it Happened:
A Friends House

The story I'm about to tell happened when I was about 15. For the last month or so, when we talked on the telephone, my friend had been telling me that during the middle of the night when he was in bed he could here rocks bouncing off the roof -- and this would go on for hours every single night. His parents also heard this and would go outside during the middle in the dark night to find nothing! Needless to say it kept happening night after night! As time went by the events got worse!

"Mr. Knock Knock," as they called him, started knocking on the door in the middle of the night and also during the day, which of course when they would go to look, nobody was there!

At this point I didn't know if I believed him or not. One time when I was talking to him on the telephone I heard a really big boom, and he told me, "Oh my God, 'Mr. Knock Knock' just kicked the door open!"

Of course he went and looked but, as always, nobody was there. This got me excited. I said to him I want to stay over and hear "Mr. Knock Knock."

Now, I don't know if it was that night, but I did stay over. It was late in the afternoon and we were in the kitchen and I made the remark that I want to hear "Mr. Knock Knock." Right after I said that, "Boom" on the door!

We went outside and found nothing.

Finally they had the police install cameras around the whole house, mostly in the trees, but they never recorded anything! They say that a man many years before that hung himself in the shed! The same events went on for a period of time, then they just stopped! I think it was the man who hung himself many years ago. I know it was some spirit, but what it wanted, I don't know.

I hope you all enjoyed it!



Thanks for the account, Scott. We appreciate it!

Now, let's see, back east where I grew up, especially in the Michigan's Lakes District, we would have thought you were the hapless victim of a squirrel with an overactive thyroid! But (and I do mean but in this particular case), you'd have to have one mean contender squirrel if he (or she, let's be fair!) had to hooves to actually kick open the door! ("Hey Rocky, watch me . . . . " )

Anyway, I was kinda wondering if it was windy on those evenings. Isn't your neck of the woods (Minnesota) famous for its windy nights? Well, ok, let's say that it was a ghost. It had to be something like that for the adults to go the distance and put in cameras. Too bad, though, that the technology wasn't around in those days for Web Cams -- who knows, we might have had "Squirrel-Cam" where we could watch it wake up in the morning, kick in a door, drop some nuts, take a shower, invite boyfriend over, do exercises in skimpy outfits . . .

OK, OK, I got carried away, and I didn't mean to poke fun (I've gotten in trouble for that in the past). Great story and thanks again for sending it in. Now, I think it's about time I install those new window locks, Halloween's a-coming and I don't want to invite any unexpected guests in -- that is, unless I'm at the Meet on the Queen Mary! .. {:~)




Those Blessed Walls
by Cara
Hailing From: Cebu, Philippines
Where it Happened:
My Grandma's Old House

Editor's Note (from Keno): Before we start, and for the record, as a rule I edit and check 99.9999% of the stories that are sent in for quality, delivery and ease of reading. However, I want to break stride with this one and present it in its original and mostly unedited format (with minor exceptions). Since it is from another land, another culture, I would like to do it this way so as not to loose its "flavor." I will apologize in advance to anyone who might find it (at first) a little harder to "read," but I think (and my intuition is screaming at me to do it this way) that this is the right thing to do. After all, it is a really very nice account and we are glad to add it to our collection! Now, if I could only find my boarding pass to the islands . . . [:~)

The house was years old and I lived there since I was born. My mom didn't get another house so we stayed with my grandma . . . after several years of living in that particular house, my family decided to have it blessed again. My grandma and her other sons called a priest. After blessing the house, the psychic my grandma called arrived.

The priest had left when she arrived. Then they started talking about what the psychic saw in our house. She said, she saw dwarfs / dwarves (however you spell that) in my uncle's room.

Another thing she saw, was the wood used for the wall in my grandma's room. She said that the wood used was from a tree that was "taw-an" as how it's called here in Cebu. It means enchanted . . . something like that . . .

Anyway, my grandma had arthritis at that time so the psychic said that maybe that was the reason why my grandma's feet ached because the spirit that lived in the wood that had been used for the wall would pull her feet at night.

My grandma, when she was still younger, she had encountered witches and dwarfs (her mother once had a friend dwarf), she started praying for the spirit and so the pain in her feet stopped. Now, she still suffers from arthritis but she moved to another house so we can't blame the wood used for the wall anymore.

She still owns the house so we still go there. Whenever I pass by this wall, I can feel the hair on my arms stand up. Really freaky . . .




"Big John"
by Brenda
Hailing From: South Bend, IN
Where it Happened:

Fourteen years ago I lived in a haunted house on Schiller Street which is just about a mile from the RCA dome in an older neighborhood. As soon as I saw the house I knew I had to have it. My daughter was about 3 at the time. For about a year nothing of any significance happened except that my daughter talked to an "invisible friend." I chalked it up to an active imagination but a few times I really got the creeps, like when she conveyed messages from her friend to me. She spoke of things that three year olds shouldn't think about, nothing dirty or anything, but subjects that adults would bring up in conversation.

In the meantime I had another child and my husband took a job where he was gone all the time. I was left alone with a toddler and a new baby sometimes for two weeks at a time. My daughter was running her cars on the linoleum one day and began talking to her "friend" again. She said things like "yes," and "I know" as if she were answering someone.

She looked at me and said, "Mommy, Big John wants to know if you are scared of dying?"

I was totally taken aback and didn't know what to say. I tried to change the subject and asked her what Big John looked like. She said he was really tall and walked funny but that he really liked kids. She also told me he was standing right beside me. Involuntarily, I sidestepped away from where she was pointing and she started laughing. "He won't hurt you Mommy," she said.

I had goose pimples on my arms the size of golf balls. It was shortly after that that Big John's mission in death started to scare me out of my wits. I could never see him but I felt him all the time. I heard him sometimes too.

After my husband started working on the road I would hear heavy breathing beside my bed at night and see shadows on the wall that shouldn't have been. One day I was taking a nap and slowly my closet door swung open with a squeak that woke me up. I was only half awake at the time and I remember looking at the door and rolling over. Suddenly my dog began to bark and jumped on the bed and I woke up and realized what I had just seen. Thinking I was still asleep and dreamed it I looked at the closet door just in time to see it shut again. I jumped up and grabbed the baby and ran out of the house. I was too scared to go back for hours.

Another night I was alone in the house in the den and the only light in the house was a low-watt bulb and the glow from the fireplace. My husband was out with the kids and I heard what I thought was them opening the back door and then walking through the house. I called out but no one answered, and I thought it strange that my girls weren't chatty and excited as they had just come from "Holiday On ice." I looked around the corner and noticed that no lights were on anywhere in the back of the house either. I was really afraid now because we had had a rape two weeks ago right across the alley from us and I was sure that someone was in the house. I grabbed the poker and jumped around every corner, turning on lights until I got to the kitchen where I had heard someone come in.

When I turned on the kitchen light, I saw the dishtowel that was hanging on the refrigerator swinging hard as if someone had walked by and swatted it. I went to the door and checked the lock and it was still locked. It was then that the hair on my arms stood up and I felt the flight or fight urge of panic. I decided that I couldn't fight what I couldn't see so I ran as fast as I could to the front door, grabbing my purse as I ran. I worked third shift at a nursing home and it was about an hour and a half before my shift began. I didn't lock the door and I left every light in the house on. I sat in the parking lot of my workplace until time for my shift to begin. When I got on the floor I called home to explain my not locking the door and leaving the house ablaze with lights. My husband said when he came home the front door was locked and the lights were out. I'm sure he thought I was losing it.

The next day I told my neighbor about what had happened including what my daughter told me about Big John. She grew pale as I told her the story and when I was finished, she told me that the man who had lived there before us was almost seven feet tall and wore a brace on his leg.

The kids all called him Big John.

So what my daughter had said about him being tall and walking funny was true. Then what my neighbor told me blew me away. She said that his wife was negligent about locking the house at night and he went behind her turning off lights to save electricity. So now I knew who had scared me so badly the night before. He was just doing what he had always done in life, but it scared me enough that the house went on the market the very next week.

Big John can scare somebody else out of their wits or he can have the place all to himself. Either way we were out of there. For all I know he's still there. The family who bought it after we moved out had it blessed by their priest and then they moved so who knows he may still be there.


Editor's Note: Fabulous story, Brenda. Thanks for waiting patiently for it to get put up here at Ghostories, and thanks for sending it in! I appreciate it. It's one thing when you think you hear or see something as you inhabit your home when you are all alone. Tis another when you start to get confirmations that what you are hearing and seeing and feeling come from a distant corridor, just beyond your ability to chase it away! In the final analysis, I would have moved too!





"A Jar Cry to Silence"
by Jeff Arwood
Hailing From: Rowe, Virginia
Where it Happened:
Lee Master, Virginia

A former associate and friend told me this once. Her parents once lived In Leemaster, a little hollow in Buchanan County. While they lived there they could often hear a baby crying outside. When they went out on the porch it would stop, but as soon as they went back in it would start again.

This went on for along time, until one day a bunch of young boys where digging in the dirt, playing with their trucks and such, when they happened upon an old buried jar.

After further inspection by the children, and my friends father, they found it contained the remains of a baby submerged in alcohol to keep it in good condition. Turns out a young girl had once lived in the area and had a miscarriage. Instead of having a proper funeral she had put it in the alcohol and buried it. After the discovery by the children the crying stopped, the baby found peace and was quiet again.

Editor's Note: I dunno about scarey, but creepy? Definitely!






"Acting Up"
by Angel Cordero
Hailing From: New York, New York
Where it Happened:

One day at school this boy in my class named Joshua was acting up. He said he suddenly felt somebody punching his arm repeatedly. Nobody in the class was hitting him or near him. And, no one believed him until the next day when they could see that his arm was so red and so swollen . . .

When we were at library, my teacher told us that our school used to be a jail and one man the called "Old Man Roderick" got killed there by a little kid. They say he hated bad kids. When we told her what happened, she said that was him.

We knew it was him because Joshua was the badest kid in the class. Then Joshua got up and opened a window without permission and by the time he sat down it closed all on it's own.




"Angry House at Donner Lake"
by Jenny
Hailing From: San Francisco, California
Where it Happened:
At a Summer House at Donner Lake, Tahoe

Every summer my grandmother rents a summer house near Lake Tahoe. The year that this expirience happened, a family friend offered their luxurious home for us to stay in. I had visisted it several times and it made me feel as if I were in a hotel. I had felt nothing strange when I visited, although I was very young when I was visiting. This time, now that I was older, we were going to stay there for a while, and things were very different.

The house was right on the lake, with it's own personal dock, a five-foot indoor swimming pool, four TV's (with one in the bathroom), and an elevator. I, being the impressive 13 year old that I was, thought it was a dream come true.

When we were settled in and a couple of days had gone by, things started to go wrong. Something about the house felt very wrong. It was as if there was a lot of anger in the house that made us all fight with one another. My mother and her mother got into the biggest fights I have ever witnessed. They screamed and accused one another of not loving each other and my mother began to cry, which really made me uncomfortable.

Across the street were two abandoned cabins that no one knew anything about. I explored them with my cousins and we felt something bad surrounding us. We got out quickly and when we went back to our house, we all felt sick to our stomachs. The only thing I remember is that there were playing cards scattered all around.

Things got worse from there. My brother broke a glass bowl and the elevator refused to work. I didn't mind so much because every time I got into it, I felt panicy like I had to get out immedietly.

The bathroom was one of the most intense places in the house. The presence I felt in there was not bad or good. The only word I can use to describe it, is intense. It was there that I saw the ghost. I saw it for an instant, a cloud of steam as if someone had taken a shower (which no one had done for at least 6 hours). I turned my head quickly realizing what I had seen but it was gone. I was the only one in the house at the time and I swear to you this is true.

I got my great uncle, who is a catholic brother, to come and see what he felt or if he could bless the room. He didn't take me seriously though and explained to me about God and spirits, etc. But I know what I saw.

I read somewhere that ghosts can hear you. I read about people who have asked a ghost to do something and the ghost did it, like fetching a ring, or a shoe or something. A few days before, I had lost a key chain I won at a casino, downstairs in the TV room, two whole floors up from the loft where I was staying. I decided to try asking the ghost, if it was really there, to return my key chain. A few days later I found it in the back of the closet in the loft as I looked for a pair of shoes. No one in my family had seen my key chain since I showed it to them at the casino. And no one had brought up anything into the closet.

Needless to say I was more than pleased to leave the house, which we never returned to again. This story isn't very impressive and a lot of you won't believe it, I admit it doesn't sound very believable, but I know what I saw. Something in that house was not right, and I believe it was very angry too.





Grandma's Memories
by Nathan S.
Hailing From: Fraserwood, Manatoba, Canada
Where it Happened:
Surrey, England

This is a story that my Mom told me about when my Grandma worked as a maid for a rich family in England. The house she worked in was haunted and some really weird things happened there. The most interesting was whenever someone cooked bread in the oven it would come out smeared with blood, so after that happened several times, they blocked off the kitchen with a wall.

Another neat happening occurred there when my grandma woke up in the middle of the night and heard the table being set, but then she found out that no one was up and it was the middle of the night.

To make things more creepier, whenever she was cleaning the third floor and she knew that no one was up there with her, she got the strongest feeling she wasn't alone.

One night a thunder storm was so loud it woke her up -- yet her room was the only room that the thunder could be heard. Another night she woke up and her bed was rocking. In the morning she asked the people who owned the house about it and they said that her room was once the room of a young boy who had become very sick, and every night his mother would rock him to sleep.


Editor's Note:Thanks for the story, Nathan. I would imagine, after hearing this story, the smell of fresh baking bread will never be the same!




The Blue House
by Rosemary
Hailing From: Gladstone, MI
Where it Happened:
Peshtigo, WI, in my home

The first thing I must explain is that I lived in a place where there was a horrible fire in the late 1800s. Across from my house was a cemetery where all of the 800 people that perished in that fire were buried. My house was also built in 1918 which made my home a prime place for a haunting, and for some reason whenever I speak of this incident it upsets my mother greatly.

My best friend had come over and we were wanting to be alone, so we scampered up to our room. Shortly after that we began to hear strange noises like footsteps running up and down our spiral staircase. We yelled to my sister to stop bothering us but she was nowhere in sight. We closed the door and backed up our trunks against it.

While we sat there a patterned knocking sound began on the wall.

An eerie feeling came over us and we no longer felt safe there. We rushed out of the door and the room was filled with blue smoke. I never ventured up there alone again. It's strange that everything weird that ever happened happened in my bedroom, because there was another night I remember vividly . . . the night I saw a figure dressed in a red and blue checkered smock standing there. She smiled and waved but when I went to touch her she disappeared.

Thank you for finally letting me share my experience. My friend would love you for it. It's important to be able to share there experiences. I don't think these ghosts were unfriendly but they sure scared the living daylights out of me.


Dear Rosemary,

Happy Halloween 1999 and thanks for sending us your story, I appreciate it and hope you and your friend return often to our year round Ghostories site on the Net. It's been three great years and we look forward to many more, thanks to our readers and contributing writers here on Ghostories.

I liked your story because it made me think at first, hey, it has to be her sister hiding and playing a prank -- but then at the end of your account, it became obvious that more was happening than could merely be explained away -- and isn't that the way of all ghostly encounters? Those who believe can see beyond mere explanation, while those who don't prefer to blame it on that piece of bread they ate earlier in the day, or that scrap of slightly burnt toast, or ....

~~ Keno

PS .... I want to take a moment and remind everyone that we now have Ghostories Collector Series "1999" tees in stock with a VERY LIMITED supply. (Shhhhh! This is kind of a secret for our readers and writers only -- It is not listed on the tee sale page, you will only read about it here -- because I personally want these tees to go only to the people who read our stories) .... So, if you have been thinking about getting a Ghostoires Tee Shirt, and you enjoy collecting, this is a good time to do it as this special tee has the year printed on it especially for collector purposes. All you have to do is ask for it when you fill out the form an it is yours -- so whatcha waitin' for? Go grab that Ghostories Tee!




Hotel Guests
by Patrizia
Hailing From: Costa Rica
Where it Happened:
In a hotel room in Peru

This story happened to my father just a few years ago. He works as part of the crew in the airline of my country. One day, he went to Peru. As you know that country has lots, and lots of stories. Well, my father was really, really tired so he just went to his hotel room and he decided to sleep. He closed the door with all the security things (3 or 4) and got in bed. Around 3:00 a.m. he felt that someone was in the room, but he was so tired and sleepy that he just did not pay attention to that.

A few minutes latter he felt that someone had entered and was in the bathroom, but he continue sleeping. Then the worst thing happened!!! -- he felt that the coldest breeze of air he ever felt passed around the bed over and over over him!!!

And my father opened his eyes and guess what? Yes!!!!!! A strange image like a ray of light was there, in the room with him. He put the pillow in his face and continued sleeping (You can be sure, if that would happened to me I might be at this moment part of the ghosts of these pages!)

What was that? A ghost? An illusion?

I think it was a ghosts because my father asked the morning after and the workers of the hotel told him that in that room a woman committed suicide years ago!


Dear Patrizia,

Thanks for sending in your story! As many of you might know (or suspect) I have a fascination with haunted hotel buildings and the rooms that tell their stories. This one is especially good because just by sitting and reading it, I can feel as if I were transported to Peru and were in that room while you were telling the story.

Once again, thanks for your contibution and have a very Happy Halloween 1999!

~~ Keno

PS .... MUSIC SIDE NOTES, MY PERSONAL RECOMMENDATION -- SECRET GARDEN: While I am editing here this morning, I am listening to a group that is new to me, and their music is fabulous to work by -- they are called Secret Garden. If any of our readers or writers like music with a unique "Olde European" sound (soft, flowing easy listening featuring a haunting violin played by an extremely talented and strikingly beautiful musician, Fionnuala Sherry, that can give you real goosebumps!) -- I highly recommend them with all thumbs up. You can literally close your eyes and feel yourself traveling to other places). Many of their songs, like the one that is on now, have a pagentry sound to them, and many selections sound as if they could very well have been sound tracks to epic movies. I do understand they have a Web site you can visit at:




In the Tunnels
by Micheal
Hailing From: Los Angeles, California
Where it Happened:
College Library

When I was about 13, my father was a professor at a college in California. The campus was built during the 1600's, and was originally a Catholic boy's home. There are catacombs where the boy's would hide when people came to persecute them. The story goes that one particular night, a well-known Christian hater came to kill the boys.

They all went down into the tunnels. One 8 year-old boy got lost, and was so scared he hung himself. His body was never found.

Anyway, back to my personal story, we lived on campus and my father was also a night guard. He had a tendency to get preoccupied with different things, and he often didn't get home until an hour after his shift was over.

On one particular night he was later than usual. My mother sent me to go check on where he was. The other guard said he was still on rounds, so I rode my bike around looking for him. I saw a light on in the library, so I parked my bike, and went in.

The staircase to the fore mentioned tunnels, or catacombs, is in the back of the library off to the left, and there is a cemetery under the staircase. I looked all through the library, and suddenly the light turned off. A little boy about 8 years old came THROUGH the door of the staircase, right where another certain 8 year-old's body was rumored to be!

Needless to say, I hauled out of there, and I have not gone back in the library since.


Editor's Note:

Michael -- Pretty darn cool story! Thanks for sending it in and sharing it with us. Not to be a critic, but I often wonder about stories where it is said someone met an untimely demise, and the details are well-know of how they died (or in this case, committed suicide)-- yet how could they be if no one found a body? However, before I make you think I am a skeptic, believe that what you hear isn't always, well, how shall I put this? It's just that time and the telling have played their magic on the factual ingredients and so have faded it just a bit. Because when all is said and done, and time has taken its earthly toll, one day the boy might appear again -- and the next time, it could be to you!

Is there another light we can turn on tonight? I feel especially wound-up . . .

Happy Halloween,







Vanishing in White
by Lisa
Hailing From: Lawtell, Louisiana
Where it Happened:
Grandma's House

OK, first off I want to say that I have been brought up with stories of ghost and haunted houses. I live in the South, Louisiana to be exact, and tales of the supernatural are nothing new to this area. I have many stories I can share, but the better ones all include my grandma's house.

The house is located in a small town called Swords and my mom would tell me stories of when she was a kid growing up with a ghost that "lived" there in the house with her and her siblings. The ghost does not have a name, she is only known as the White Lady since she wears a white dress.

My mom told me stories of seeing this White Lady many times as a child. But she was never scared of the White Lady. She said she felt as if the ghost was watching over her and her sisters, and that they never felt threatened. She told me she would see the ghost at night, walking in the hallway or on the staircase. Other times she just felt the presence of the ghost. She would be in her room after school doing homework and she knew someone was in the room watching her.

When I was a kid, going to grandma's was always something special because I would look for this ghost. I remember very well the first time I saw the White Lady. I was 14 and my friend Chad was with me at grandma's. We had just gotten home from school and I had the key to grandma's because that's where I went after school until my mom picked me up when she got off work.

Grandma was not there so Chad and I made ourself at home. He knew of the stories about the house, and was skeptical. We made some snacks and went into the den to sit and watch tv. The staircase is in full view from the den and as we watched tv, I felt a presence. Chad felt it too, he claimed it got really cold. I thought it was a draft, so we went into the hallway and checked to see if any windows were open. As we were going to the living room, my eye caught something. I stopped and grabbed Chad's arm.

There, at the bottom of the staircase, was a figure of a woman.

At that moment she looked at us and that cold chill went through me. She proceeded to go up the stairs. I watched her details -- her hand was on the banister, but you could see through it. She was transparent all through her figure. And she looked up as she walked, as if looking for something.

Chad and I were literally paralyzed. We watched her, not knowing what was going to happen. For a second there the figure paused, glanced back at us and then continued walking up, but she never made it to the top. She vanished on the fourth step just before the landing.

When she disappeared Chad ran up the steps, I guess he wanted to catch her -- idiot. He said the spot where she disappeared was so cold. I went up the stairs where he was and felt it too. It was freezing. At that point I wanted to get out of the house. We both grabbed our book bags and ran outside and stayed on the front porch until my mom came. We told her what happened and she told us not to be scared. This being our first time seeing this spirit -- hell yeah we were scared! But mom came in the house with us and we felt better with her there.

The second time I saw the White Lady was Thanksgiving 1997. I had not been to grandma's much before then. Things at my house got complicated and I had to take care of things so there was not much time left for visits, but when Thanksgiving did roll around, all of my family came to grandma's.

My mom has 10 siblings so it was quite the event. Grandma has a huge dining table that seats 24 in the main room of her house. We all were sitting down at dinner, having a good time. I was between my uncle Kevin and my cousin Joseph (we call him Shags). People were coming and going through the doors that lead to the kitchen, and clean out of nowhere, I looked up and saw a lady, wearing white come in from the door on the right and walk from there to the left side of the room, then disappear into the wall.

I jumped up. I was startled. She had passed right by everyone and right THROUGH my uncle Patrick who was standing by the wine cart. He didn't even flinch!

I looked over to my mom. She saw her too, but she put her finger on her mouth, motioning me to keep quiet. I didn't say anything, but Shags was nudging me under the table. I turned to him and he whispered to me, "Did you see that?" I told him yes.

After dinner I was helping grandma with the dishes and I told her what I saw. She saw her too, but she said it did not surprise her at all. The White Lady likes to show up when there are a lot of people at the dinner table. All she does is walk from one side of the room to the other, then disappear into the wall.

But not everyone sees her, that's what I find odd. I told her how she just walked through Pat and he didn't notice anything. Weird.

A number of days later I found out that only four other people saw her that day in the dining room -- my aunt Jenn, my cousin Brad, his girlfriend Ashley, and my aunt's husband Mark. Grandma told me that they phoned her and told her about the White Lady.

I haven't seen the White Lady since that Thanksgiving day. Grandma says she is still around. She had company over this past September, some friends had come from Florida and stayed the night there. They witnessed the White Lady on the staircase disappearing. But something else has occurred. Grandma and others are now hearing footsteps and laughter in the upstairs bedroom that is used as a drawing room. I'll have to do some investigating on that one.


Thanks for the really cool and chilling personal account, Lisa. This is a perfect story for this season and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Radio Disney won't be just a tab bit jealous they didn't have this one to play during their Halloween specials -- maybe next year, eh?

Speaking of Disney, I never can help but think of New Orleans Square at Disneyland when I receive a story from your neck of the woods. And, in this particular story, with the 24-person dining table, I could just picture that room in the Haunted Mansion where the ghosts are floating in and out, sitting at the table and then vanishing, and dancing over in the far area of the mansion.

I love stories like this, late at night, with the lights way low or completely out. Nothing but the shine from the monitor lighting up the room, and those shadows over there on the wall. Now that I think of it, what is that unusual glow coming from my stairwell this particular evening...could it be?

All the Best to your Entire Family,

~~~ Keno {:~)






Side Note: Just a side note, recently at a wedding reception we were treated to the best blues music this side of heaven and I would just like to say thanks to those 17 great musicians (yes, you heard right, "seventeen" who were all old friends attending the wedding) wild and crazy guitar players, drummers, singers and more who totally blew us away! What a surprise and what an unexpected thrill! It was like being backstage at the best blues club you have ever been to, bar none!

If any Ghostories fans love good rock 'n blues music, please don't hesitate to visit Paul Cummins' music at his MP3 Site: All you have to do is Click Here -- Paul and all of his friends are truly fantastic musicians (ie: this is a don't miss).

And it goes without saying when a good friend finally finds her mate, her soul mate and her best friend for life, Congratulations are in order to Ellie and Chuck on their marraige! Enjoy your honeymoon cruise, you deserve it! And thanks for letting us be a part of your very special day yesterday.







~ ~ ~ ~ ~


your relatives

Even that departed one over there!


And now, big poem time . . .

"Yes, They Roistered!"
by Keno with inspiration from a good friend of mine


"They partied in the basement,

And doncha know,

they even "Roistered" in the hall.

They boogied in the Rafters

And cast them

weird old Shadows

on the walls.


They flew around the Corridors

and Casements,

Terrorizing cats

in Catacombs

And Dogs

in dungarees.


With cheers and jeers

and creaking sounds

That nearly kept us up 'til three.

We got chills

and thrills . . .

And expletives from Uncle Bill!


(Didn't he pass on six years ago?)


On that fateful night,

That Wild

and Crazy night

On that

Oh So Magic night

Of the Autumnal Ghostly Ball."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hey you guys,

If you're going to be "Roistering"

Can you please not do it around

the cat?

(Anyone seen Fluffy?)



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Webster's definition of "Roistering" :

"Merrymaking Noisily"