Just when you've let down your guard, the

........storm arrival






Another Truly Unique Ghostories Visitor Library
With a Whole New Batch of Chilling Ghost Tales Added Each Week

P r e s e n t s


First Class R. M. S. Accomodations
by Ken S.
Hailing From: Bakersfield, California
Where it Happened:
The R.M.S. Queen Mary (Long Beach, California)

Before I begin, you must know the total awe this ship inspires. The Queen Mary is over 1,010 feet in length, and stands over eleven stories tall. It is simply massive. (It used to be a passenger liner, and is now a floating hotel / tourist attraction). Now, onto my story. During the Christmas season of 1997, my father and I headed to the ship to attend a Titanic Historical Society convention (I am a member of this fine group) and since the convention spanned three days, we decided to stay on the ship's hotel. Our room was first Class Cabin M-103 (I think, it may have been 104 or 105), and after we got over the gigantic size of the room, we decided to get cleaned up after the 2-hour drive. This is where the weird stuff begins.

My dad was the first in the shower, and when he came out, he looked rather cheesed-off. He asked me why I kept coming in and flushing the toilet -- and then knocking on the shower door. At this I was confused because I had been sitting on my hotel bed watching Sienfeld on the TV. But, after I thought about it, I got kind of excited since I had read so many Ghost Stories about the Queen Mary.

I hoped that maybe this was my chance to see, hear, or at least feel the presence of a ghost (at the time I had wanted to be a Parapsychologist, but now I'm considering going into Kidnapping Investigation for the FBI).

I went into the bathroom, closed the shower door, and, well, washed. About two minutes into it, I began to get a creepy feeling, like someone was standing right behind me. I turned around abruptly, but with soap in my eye I could not see much. I thought I saw, however, a glimpse of a retreating shadow. As I turned around to wash the soap out of my eyes, I heard two sharp raps on the shower door. At this time I'm not sure which I was more: Utterly excited about "my first supernatural experience," fascinated, or utterly terrified. I think it was a strange mix of all three.

Anyhoo, I washed quicker than usual and got out of that bathroom as fast as possible. The convention went without a hitch, (but as we entered into the grand ballroom for the big formal dinner, there was a small flood forming at the stairwell, due to a burst pipe. A Titanic enthusiast jokingly cried, "We're sinking!"), but after we went to bed that's when it all started again.

I'm not sure how long I was asleep, but the event must have been after 2:00 a.m., since I had nearly died laughing at Saturday Night Live (those Roxbury Guys are hilarious!). Anyway, I woke up with a terrible case of seasickness. I felt as if I was going to throw up, and the feeling in my gut was worse than any "car sickness" I had ever felt. As I sat up in bed, I could feel the ship pitching and rolling, as if it were in the middle of a typhoon! For a brief moment, I wondered if I WAS in a Typhoon, because the ship is in an enclosed dock, and no waves from the outside can get into the dock. These thoughts were cut short, as I couldn't wait any longer to get to the toilet and grant freedom to my aching bowels. I leapt out of bed and suddenly, not slowly -- just completely ABRUPTLY, the rolling and pitching stopped, and so did the sea sickness.

It just stopped.

No lingering whatsoever. I'm not sure what went on there, but as I stood there, I got that creepy, "I'm being watched" feeling. Without hesitation, I jumped back into bed, hid my head under the covers and didn't resurface until daybreak.

I'm not sure about this theory, but I think I might have been somehow "transported" back in time to the ship when it was sailing in a storm? I've been there many times since, but nothing as "haunting" as that has happened to me.

Just a word of advice, though: Don't go down into the engine room alone. I went down there alone, and the "being watched" feeling was so bad I ran the whole way through. Watertight Door #13 is along that way, where a man was killed back in the 1960's. They say he haunts that area and can sometimes be seen, heard, and literally felt. I haven't seen, heard, or felt anything yet there, but I'll be sure to let you know as soon as I do!

I hope you enjoyed my little account. It makes a great conversation maker for me. =)

Fabulous story, Ken! Thank you very, very much for sending it in -- it makes a perfect opening addition to the new Storm Library! I couldn't have asked for a better piece to start with.

I'm hoping that after our next Ghostories Meet at the fabled Mission Inn in Riverside that possibly we can schedule a Meet at the Queen Mary. This is, as you said, a great ship offering a perfect place to hunt ghosts and gather for some more ghostly adventures (if you have never been to a Ghostories Meet, you are really missing out!!). Maybe we can plan this one around Halloween time, or if possible, see if we can find out a specific date in the Fall that something happened to the ship or to someone related to its ghostly voyaging past.

Now, where did I put those Dramamines!!!!!





Willard's Ghost
by Ghostories "Contributor"* Scott Brandt
Hailing From: Shreveport, Louisiana
Where it Happened:
Ichiban Fitness Center

*Note Re: "Contributor" -- Scott wrote and told us that he was happy to help with the costs associated with editing and keeping his story online for many many months to come -- and to make it a permanent part of our most current Ghostly Library, "Storm." So, we want to personally thank Scott for his help by sending in $5 in to publish, preserve and present his story. Thanks, Scott!! You are Aces!!)

In the spring of 1988, I walked into Ichiban Health and Fitness Center in Shreveport, Louisiana for the first time. I was 24, levelheaded, and fitness-minded. It was a well-established, posh club that catered to the well-to-do; I felt a tincture of privilege when I was told that I could train there anytime I wanted.

At the end of the entrance hall, tacked to the wall above two comfortable chairs, hung a marble plaque dedicated to the former owner and proprietor of the establishment: Willard Robertson. He had died on October 29, 1983. I learned that Mr. Robertson had purchased the small, pagoda style karate dojo in the late '70's; from there, it became a nautilus center, and then the exclusive club I came to know all too well. His son inherited the place after Willard succumbed to a massive heart attack just after Ichiban was finished being built. Rumor had it that construction costs were in the millions.

Working alone at night, I had to secure the building after everyone had been hastened off at 10 P.M., the normal closing hour during the week. This involved me walking the club's perimeter in total darkness. While carrying out this perfunctory duty, I frequently felt as if I were not alone.

As time progressed, I found myself being startled by the dull thump of opening, then closing doors, which always drew me toward different areas in the place in order to investigate. Bristling nape hairs would be the inevitable result of these encounters, as no other living being was ever found.

Having experienced ghosts firsthand, I became curious and asked a longtime employee and head trainer, Chuck Berroteran, about the oddities. He looked at me wide-eyed and flatly stated that Willard's ghost was in the place, and had brushed him a few times as well. This revelation was all that I needed: I began to harry the other night trainer, Gerald Fairbanks, a full-blooded Chippewa Indian, about the otherworldly patron; we succeeded in working each other into a constant state of nervousness -- especially when we were left there alone.

It must have been this badinage that sparked an increase in the intensity of events that took place in October of 1988. I, being the skeptic, dismissed the anomalous noises and feelings to an overworked imagination; Gerald, however, became a staunch believer. He came in to work one afternoon and relayed a harrowing tale of hearing heavy footsteps along the hall in which he stood after closing time the night before. He became so frightened that he ducked into a nearby closet to escape the approaching, incorporeal noise; after he was certain it had passed, he fled the building without once stopping to look back. Even though I doubted that it really took place, a part of me shuddered with him.

Halloween came. My imaginative side emerged as I plotted to scare the living daylights out of Gerald: He had to close the place down all by himself that night. Michelle, the receptionist, loved the idea, and wanted in on it. We met behind the club at 10 p.m, and used our key to enter the rear of the place when it appeared devoid of patrons. I had in my hand a hideous, demon-faced mask with red, blinking eyes; I would skulk in a dark corner and wait for Gerald to come ambling by.

We chortled as we imagined him making a new door through the front of the club on his way out.

Michelle and I maneuvered into the Nautilus room and waited. Gerald had the music on very loud, and was poring over some paperwork behind the counter. Just when we were about to abort the plan, he turned the music off and started the dreaded perimeter walk in the darkness. He hadn't made it ten feet when I made a huge disturbance in the Nautilus room by banging some of the weights around. He froze in the hall and fixed his gaze in my direction, trying to focus his eyes in the dark milieu. I began to chant his name in a gravely voice, "Gerald, . . . Gerald . . . "

He stood his ground, but made no reply.

Donned in the mask, I began to approach him slowly. Seeing that he was unmoved, I began a charge. He crouched into a fighting stance. I stopped five feet short and ripped the mask off. "Damn it, Gerald; you're supposed to run!!"]

He let out a terrific gasp and replied, "You scared the *#!* out of me!!"

We all enjoyed a hearty laugh. To this day, I think that this one incident spurred what Gerald, Tommy Farmer, and I witnessed one week later while working out after closing time on a Saturday evening.

It was 6 p.m. -- closing time on Saturday. We three went to the free weight room and began the usual routine of throwing the weights around. For those of you who aren't familiar with gyms: there are mirrors along most of the walls, which enable one to keep eye contact with everyone else -- even when one's back is turned. I was toward the rear of the weight room, standing on a bench. Tommy and Gerald were at the other, by the dumbbell racks, facing away; we could see one another through the mirrors.

Just as I was about to perform a set, I saw a bar jump from its cradle out of my peripheral vision, at about 5 o'clock. I turned all the way around to verify what I thought I saw, then turned to see if they saw it. They both were staring at me, slack-jawed and mute. I couldn't help but make light of the situation, "He's here!" I proclaimed. They weren't amused. I, of course, wouldn't have been nearly as bold, had I been there alone.

The machine from which this bar sprung had lips to secure it; also, the catch on the bar itself was square, not round. I put it back and knocked it from the cradle: it went about half as far. That did it for me: Willard -- or, at least, something -- was definitely there. Unfortunately, that was the apex of my experience there. To this day, I can hardly believe what we saw. I still see Tommy Farmer every now and then. If I ask him about it, he reluctantly avers.

As an aside, Gerald and Michelle are, at this juncture, both deceased: Gerald took his own life a couple of years ago, and Michelle was murdered this past January. I can't help but feel like the last man out: a dubious distinction, indeed! Though I love and miss them both, I like to think that they still occasion the old club, and enjoy a workout or a visit with old man Robertson.

I want to thank you again, this time on the page, Scott, for helping out here at Ghostories. I know it is a new thing, but I suspect that there are more out there just like you who want to help support what we are doing to bring true ghost experiences to the Net in a time-tested format.

Nothing like a little work out to make your spirits come alive, I always say!


(If you visit here often and would like to know how you too could help with $5 like Scott did, simply email keno@ghostories.com -- all help, however small, is appreciated -- and after all, if you like the stories here, wouldn't you feel good about being a part of keeping them online?)




Rock 'n Roll
by Heather Beck
Hailing From: Stockton, Ca.
Where it Happened:
North Dakota

When I was a child of ten, my aunt had a ghost in her house that all six of us kids called "Charlie." We knew he existed because doors would open on their own, pictures were turned backwards, and sometimes at night the rocking chair would just start rocking on it's own.

One night all six of us kids were sitting in the living room watching TV and my mother and aunt were in the dining room. It was then we heard someone walking down the stairs -- one step at a time -- and when it reached the living room we could see the footprints in the carpet. When they got to the dining room it stopped.

Another time I witnessed something I have told very few people. I was in bed one night and my youngest cousin who was four was asleep, but she had kicked her covers off when all of a sudden the covers were lifted as if someone were covering her back up -- yet nobody was there.

My aunt had a catholic priest come in and bless the house, but he forgot a corner and that night the rocker started rocking uncontrollably and pictures started flying off the end table. The next day she had the priest come back and bless that part of the house and put a bottle of holy water in every room. Those bottles of holy water stayed in the house until they moved out.

Three months after they moved out the house, it was completely destroyed by flooding.

The people who bought the house, before the flood, wouldn't leave the Holy water saying it was just religious superstition.

Do you think they regret that now?

Just coincidence or not?

What a deal, eh? It does make one wonder and I thank you for sending it in.

That reminds me, I always keep a glass of water by the side of the bed at night. In my case, it is to sip on if I wake up thirsty. I think I'll make a side note not to go to bed without it -- just in case there are storm clouds looming overhead that night!




Waited Too Long
by Cynthia F.
Hailing From: Maine
Where it Happened:
Boston, Mass.

I lived in an old Victorian house for 11 years with my parents, one brother and two sisters. The former owners moved out quickly around the corner less than a year of moving in. My story begins as far back as I can remember, and maybe when I CAN'T remember as well.

Every night I was awakened by the presence of a tall man wearing a gray hat and coat standing over my bed or standing in the doorway of the bedroom my sisters and I shared. My bed was closest to the door. Every night as far back as I can remember I screamed for my parents to rescue me as I shoved my head underneath the blankets until my parents were finally by my side. Of course their answer was, "Cynthia, no more watching scary movies!"

I lived in the house from infancy until age 11. However every night, or at least every other night, it happened.

My parents grew concerned. One day my mom mentioned my so called nightmares to an old lady around the corner. She told my mom that a man who was a former owner of the house had died in that room -- and that she believed me.

The old woman asked my mom to bring me over to her house. Upon my arrival (and not really understanding the nature of the visit), she handed me a large picture album and asked me to look through it. I did as I was told. I was shocked to find the man in her picture album. I ran to my mom and told her that this was the man in my room at night. The old woman looked at my mom and told her that he was the former owner of the house who had died in my bedroom -- and indeed he was.

The old woman advised my mom to place a silver coin in the doorway of the bedroom with the side saying "IN GOD WE TRUST" facing up. It worked most of the time. We eventually moved due to unrelated reasons and I have never again experienced what I experienced in that house anywhere else. On one occasion my mom received a phone call from the next owners asking about strange things in the house at night, but my mom denied them.

Now that I am older and can think back to that time and I see a very peaceful man . He never tried to harm me and maybe thought he was even protecting me. I visited the house once as an adult only to find an empty lot. I guess I arrived to late. You see I always wanted to go back to find out the truth about the old house and the man who died there, but I was too afraid. I now believe this house was an entrance wayward spirits.



Thanks for sending in the story, Cynthia. I really appreciate it.

I've done that before, too -- I mean, waited too long, only to go back and find what you remember in your mind has totally changed. Some modern day magic in the form of a bulldozer or tractor has been a major factor in rearranging the reality you remembered. And now the hope of looking for what you thought you might find has been completely eliminated from that vast shrinking realm of possiblities. Kinda sad, isn't it? Then again, sometimes late at night if I can't get right to sleep, I picture the place I remembered -- just as it was -- and I picture myself walking up and into it, seeing every detail of its inner rooms, the walls, etc. And then I doze off I guess half hoping that maybe I'll dream I am there.

Once I did dream I was where I had hoped to be, and it was a great dream indeed. Possibly if you try what I have tried when you seem to be sleepless, it might happen to you too.

Pleasant dreams . . .



Tip o' the Hat
by Michelle K.
Hailing From: Taylorsville, Utah
Where it Happened:
Putney, Vermont

I 've had a lot of strange experiences in my life, and I'm going to relate a few of them here. You may choose to use one, all or none. It's up to you. I testify to you, though, that they are all TRUE.

This is probably the scariest thing that ever happened to me. Let me give a brief background. I spent the first 18 years of my life growing up in a little town called Putney, in the state of Vermont. The upstairs of our house had two bedrooms -- mine and my sisters. She moved out to go to college when I was 9 years old, so basically I had the whole upstairs to myself.

Both my sister and I complained to our mom frequently that there was "something scary" upstairs. We would often feel we had to look over our shoulder.... and absolutely refused to look at a window at night for fear of seeing something reflected in it. We just got a lot of creepy feelings and insisted the room was haunted. My mother kept saying that a house couldn't be haunted unless somebody had died in it and nobody had ever died in our house. But she was wrong about that. A death doesn't have to happen there for it to be haunted.

When I was about 15 years old I bought a Ouija board. The weird thing about it was I could do it by myself ... I didn't need to have anyone else put their hands on the indicator. I would spend lots of time talking to the "spirits." Sometimes, the phone would ring and I would ask the board who it was going to be --- it would spell out a name very quickly, and sure enough --- that's who would be on the phone!

My friend Connie was spending the night at my house. We were upstairs in my sister's room (now the guest room) playing with the Ouija board. We got a hold of a spirit who said his name was "Ralph." He was an evil spirit because he was spelling out all kinds of obscenities, calling us all kinds of names and using foul language. The indicator was moving so forcefully that sometimes it would fly out of our hands. We told "Ralph" we didn't like what he was saying so we said, "Goodbye."

In all of our previous experiences, whenever we said "Goodbye" the spirit would move the indicator to the world, "Goodbye." But Ralph didn't. He shoved the indicator over to the word "NO."

We tried a few more times to say goodbye and he continued to shove the indicator to "No." So we just took our hands off the thing and put the board on the floor. Both of us had a really uneasy feeling and we talked for a few minutes about what a strange experience that was. I told Connie goodnight and I went into my bedroom which adjoined the guest room by an open doorway (no door). She was feeling spooked so she had opted to read for awhile. I laid down in my bed ...

and I swear to you that what I am about to tell you is the honest truth ...

I felt like I was being pulled out of my body! At the foot of the bed there was a blackness ---- not a mist like fog, but it wasn't solid either --- I couldn't see through it ... yet it had no defining shape to it either. I felt an evil presence there so strong it was absolutely terrifying. I looked at my alarm clock and it was fading away as if I were being pulled down a long tunnel. I remember hearing a rushing sound very loud in my ears. I mentally screamed, "NO!" and fought with all my energy to focus on the alarm clock. In a mental telepathy kind of communication, I heard a voice emanate from the blackness at the foot of the bed. Instinctively I knew it was "Ralph", the spirit we had been talking to on the Ouija board. He said, "I'm going to get you, Michelle ... I want your body."

I was investigating the Mormon church at the time, and I remembered reading something about evil spirits and that they could be commanded to depart. I could not move my physical body ... it was as if I was paralyzed. I know I was making choking sounds because I was trying to call out to Connie for help. My mouth would not open. Whatever battle I was going to fight.... it would be spiritual and mental. In my mind I said, "In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to depart!" And then I prayed --- HARD.

Within seconds I was released from this power that had held me captive. My alarm clock came back into focus ... the blackness at the foot of the bed vanished and I laid there feeling utterly breathless.

I got out of bed and walked to the doorway of the other bedroom. Connie, who was still reading, looked up at me and her face showed the shock of what she saw when she looked at me. She told me I looked pale as a ghost. I was sweating, weak ... trembling. And she thought I was about to be sick. I told her what had happened. She probably wouldn't have believed me except that the way I looked told her I had really experienced something. She said she had heard me making some weird noises, but she didn't think much of it at the time.

The next day I threw the Ouija board into the garbage and I've never touched one since. (That was 20 years ago) When I moved out of the house, my mother moved upstairs into my old bedroom. She'd only been there a couple of months when I got a phone call from her.

She said, "You know, you girls were right ... there IS something weird upstairs. I've felt it myself."

I know that there are both good and bad spirits. My belief is that when you use a Ouija board, you contact only the bad ones ... the good ones have better things to do.

But that ... is another story ....


When I was 9 years old I was spending the night at my friend Cindy's house. Her sister Betsy, (age 14), brother Bobby and his friend Brian (age 11) were there. Their parents were gone for the evening.

We were all alone in their old house.

They were talking about something called "Bloody Mary." They said you go into a bathroom with the lights off at night and look into a mirror and say, "Bloody Mary" over and over and then you'll see a ghost in the mirror. Well, Cindy and I tried it, but I wouldn't open my eyes because I didn't really want to see any such thing. However, it was enough to get my emotions in a tizzy.

They decided it would be "fun" to have a seance. We turned off all the lights in the house, lit a candle and some incense and sat down on the floor in a circle holding hands. It was scary to me before we even got started. There was a lot of wind blowing outside, causing the tree branches to scratch the windows of the room we were in.

Betsy seemed to be the one who knew what to do so she acted as the Medium. She started calling upon her grandma to come forth ... the rest of us, scared silly, manifested it by giggling and being a little uncooperative. The fact that we were holding hands with boys was also adding to the silliness. Betsy gave us a warning look, and we eventually settled down. She got really weird looking ... like she was in a trance. I was sure she was faking it because she's a good actress.

We all got real quiet and everyone's eyes focused on the candle. It was acting really strange. The flame would get really high, then really small. It would flicker then almost burn still. Although it was windy outside, we didn't feel a draft on the floor where we were sitting and the candlelight flickered with such rhythm to it that it didn't seem possible that it could be a natural occurrence.

I wasn't sure about the rest of them, but I was getting scared. It felt really cold, and eerie. We were very quiet, so you could hear all the creaks in the house. Betsy sat there with her eyes wide open, not even blinking ... just staring into the candle flame. I remember thinking that I sincerely hoped she was just putting on a good show and that she wasn't REALLY going to conjure up a ghost.

But then, something really wierd happened.

We all jumped at precisely the same moment and Cindy and I yelled.

We all let go of each others hands and everybody except Betsy jumped up and ran into the kitchen and turned on the light.

We were all talking at once about how we all felt a hand on our shoulders at exactly the same instant.

We were trying to accuse the person sitting beside us of doing it ... but as we thought about it, we realized that was impossible because we had never broken the link of our hands.


This isn't a ghost story, but it's interesting. My mother always had the ability to sense things. One time we were watching television, and she got a strange look on her face. She told me that the picture on the TV screen had disappeared, and she had seen her father's foot being pulled into a piece of machinery at the paper mill where he worked. She said she could still hear the television program, just the picture had changed. She called my grandma immediately and asked if grandpa was at work. Grandma said no, he was working the night shift so he was asleep at that time. My mom did not want to alarm her, so she just said, "Well tell dad to be extra careful tonight."

And then she hung up.

Several hours later the phone rang and it was my grandma telling my mom that grandpa was at the hospital. He'd got his leg caught in a piece of machinery at the mill.


It was the night of my 8th birthday. My parents and I went to my grandparent's trailer for birthday cake. My grandmother's brother, Alvin, was there. I remember he teased me all evening with a dollar bill that he had given me ... he kept making it disappear.

We all had a piece of birthday cake and then he went to bed. He died that night. I don't know why ... but, I accused my poor mom of putting poison in his birthday cake!

I wouldn't touch any of the leftovers. My mother was mortified that I would even think that ... and to this day I don't know why I would think such a thing either.

She later related to me that a few days after the funeral she was standing in our kitchen washing dishes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a gentleman walk up the steps to our front door. She turned to see who it was, and it was Uncle Alvin!

She opened her mouth to speak to him but as soon as she did so he disappeared.

She said he was wearing a suit with an overcoat and a hat. She related that he came back several times, always when she was standing at the sink washing dishes, and he always disappeared if she tried to speak. So she decided to keep quiet and see what happened. She said he would just stand there and smile at her for a few minutes and then disappear.

The last time he came, she said he tipped his hat to her, smiled and then was gone and she knew, somehow, that it was the last time she'd see him. I've since wondered if perhaps he knew that I had accused her of poisoning him and he was trying to console her, or let her know that he knew she didn't do any such thing. I can see no other reason for these visits.

Well, I have more.. but I think that is all for now. Hope you've enjoyed them!



Hot Summer Voices
by John Palucka
Hailing From: McKees Rocks, PA
Where it Happened:
Many times over the years in our house

I 've been in my house for nearly 8 yrs and I am only the third owner. As far as I know no one died here . . . and here is my story.

When I bought this house I was told by the previous owner that the attic was converted into the master bedroom. So I was using it for the same thing one hot summer night. I had the window air conditioner on and as I tried to sleep I heard voices. I couldn't make out what was being said but I could tell it was a man and a woman.

At first I thought I left the TV on, so I went down stairs to turn it off -- but it wasn't on. Then I thought it was my neighbor so I went outside to check I heard no sounds. Next I shut off the air conditioner, but I still could hear the voices.

I thought it was my imagination until one night when I was out of town. I called my wife and she told me she heard the voices. I never told her about hearing them and by this time we had moved our bedroom to the second floor.

Over the years we have heard the voices on many occasions, and about three years ago the voice of a small boy had also been heard.



Screamin' Demon
by Julie
Hailing From: Flagstaff, AZ
Where it Happened:
Wichita, KS

When I was 13 we moved into a normal looking house in Wichita, KS. I don't remember when things started happening but it wasn't to long after we moved in. The first thing I remember is my cat, Whiskers, getting scared and all of her fur standing up. Later my mother and sister told the rest of us about hearing a male scream while taking a shower. Of course this made me not want to take a shower again.

I was always staying up very late, and as you know that is usually when things start happening. There was one night when I was in bed reading and I kept hearing a tapping noise on the desk. When I looked over it would stop and when I turned away it would start again.

I didn't freak out to bad until I saw a shadow on the wall. I ran to my parents room. My father went to sleep on the couch and I slept with my mom.

Later that night I woke up and noticed that the exercise bike was glowing bright green. I remember thinking - It must glow so people won't bump into it the middle of the night. The next day I told my sister about the bike glowing. She told me that was stupid because the bike didn't glow. I told her it did and went into our parents room and turned off the light. Unfortunately the darn thing didn't glow. I wasn't really scared I actually thought it was funny.

But it wasn't funny when I became the favorite target of the ghost. More shadows and noises - I won't bore you with details because they were similar to the last one.

My dad never believed any of it. Until the very last day we were there. We were all packed and making sure we got everything out of the house. I was in the back of the house and my parents were standing by the basement stairs. Then there it was - that man screaming. My dad yelled for me and we left. I'm glad he got to hear it right at the end. He's lucky it never bothered him. Maybe I should have pretended not to believe.

Oh just one last thing. Not long after we moved in two cops came to the door with an arrest warrant for the former occupant. I wonder what that person did?

I have never tried to look up anything about the house. I really wouldn't know how to go about it. All I know is something happened there.




Coffee Table Hellion
by Crystal M Cox
Hailing From: Eagle Point, Oregon
Where it Happened:
A friend's house

I was about twelve years old at the time. I spent the night at a friend's house. Her and I went to her cousin's house which was not that far from where she lived. Their parents weren't home at the time. So we all had a little bit of alcohol and smoked a few cigarettes.

Well that day it started to storm. We all started telling ghost stories. Then when my friends cousin was right in the middle of telling one the phone rang. We all jumped. My friends cousin went to answer it and she herd a little girl laughing.

She said, "You'd better not be pulling a prank."

But then she put "it" on speakerphone and we heard the little girl laughing, and then all of the sudden she screamed. Then my friend pointed towards the coffee table and we saw a little girl that was about five years old running around in circles -- and she never stopped. After about ten minutes she disappeared and we never seend (sic) or herd (sic) her since.

We didn't know if we were imagining things or not. But if we were then how could all of us see her.



Thanks for sending in the story, Crystal. I really appreciate it. Although for the past few stories, in the way of comments, I've been admittedly a bit tongue-tied.

I guess I was sort of hoping there would be a string of similar stories (which sometimes happens -- you know -- stuff coming in "threes") that might give me a clue of what to say. I mean, you have to ask yourself, if you were committed to stay behind (as a ghost), rather than jaunt ahead into the afterlife, why would you even consider doing the things you might do so that the living would notice?


I mean, given the fact that, say, you "wake up" as a non-person -- as a ghost as it were -- and you discover that you are left behind to fend in this world, would you chose to:

A: Ride an exercise bike and glow in the dark?

B: Order your Bloody Marys via a Ouija board?

C: Laugh, scream, and then run around in circles on top of a coffee table?

I dunno -- you have to admit, it is a little baffling. Now I'm not poking fun at the writers of these stories. Far from it.

It is just that, well, I am wondering if there might be some "Big Guy" out there who is in charge of handing out assignments once you screw up and are told to stay behind (as a ghost). I mean, maybe he (the Big Guy) has bad days too, like the rest of us? That would be the only answer, I would think, because why else would you or I -- if we were ghosts -- do these really nutty things?

Am I the only one who wonders about this stuff? Come on, I can't be!!!

Ahhhhh, I dunno, but I can imagine the Big Guy -- let's call him "The Assignor" -- if you happen to hit him on a bad day.

Can you hear him now?

"OK, dipstick! Yes you, come here, O'Neill! Lesseee, sezs here in my new arrivals that you were told to stay behind? Do some haunting? HAR!! Well, you hit me on a day when my new-ghost-girl-friend decided we had to visit my ex-mother-in-law! And I'm feeling a little short-sheeted!!"

"So here it is, you ready?? You get to run around in your underwear on top of this old guys armoire yelling, ' The British are coming! The British are coming! ' "


Yeah, that's probably what would happen to me. Maybe it happened to them, ya think?

PS . . . 15 years old and smoking and drinking? Shocking!! Truly! Can you even imagine me doing that back in the 60's!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Ya think?? Well, I'll never tell!!)

Pleasant dreams all . . .




"The Answer My Friend . . . "
by Stephanie
Hailing From: Maryland
Where it Happened:
At my great-grandmother's house in Annapolis, Maryland

When I was little, I was a complete skeptic when it came to ghosts. To me they had the same roots as fairytales. They were "baby" things -- but I don't feel that way anymore. I'm not completly a "believer," but I'm sure not a skeptic.

I'm not sure whether I'm afraid of the ghost because I was so young at the time or because I should be scared. I was only four when it happened, and I was at my great-grandmother's house in Annapolis, Maryland.

My Grandmother had one of those really old townhouses. It was in the old part of town and was covered in vines. All the trees were big and it must've happened in early spring because the trees were still bare, but it was kind of warm.

Her house always gave me the creeps because it was so old, but I didn't have a choice about going. She would let me run around her house, if I wanted to (which I usually didn't). That day I had this feeling I should go explore, so I went. When I got into one of the bedrooms I just stopped. I didn't know why, and I still don't (although I think someone or something wanted me to).

There hadn't been a slight breeze that day, but all of a sudden there was wind blowing in through the windows, making the curtains billow out. I turned my head towards the window and had to squint and the wind was so strong my hair blew back.

All of a sudden there was a figure. It was a woman with black hair. She was wearing clothes from the 1920's. She stared straight at me with these sad eyes, like she was looking at something she wanted so much, but couldn't have.

Then she dissappeared as quickly as she came and I let out a scream so loud they could have heard it in California.

My parents ran upstairs to calm me down. They never asked what happened, but that's okay. Many times after that, I would go in there frequently and she would always appear. After that first time, I didn't scream.

Three years ago my great-grandmother died and when I had a few minutes alone, I went into the same room. She appeared to me one last time. For the first time in six years she spoke. She told to me not to forget her, and if I could come back to visit. I haven't forgot her and probably never will, but I don't know if I'll ever get to visit her.

But I want to.

A lot.

(Editor's note: At the request of the writer, comments have been withheld for this story).



"Black Sabbath, Black Eye"
by David H. Coddington
Hailing From: West Sacramento, California
Where it Happened:
Costa Mesa, California

In 1976 I was attending Tewinkle Middle School and some friends and I would go to our friend Mike's house and listen to bands like Kiss, Black Sabbath and Blue Oyster Cult. As you can imagine one thing lead to an other listening to all that dark music and it peeked our curiosity about the supernatural -- so somebody got a hold of a Ouija board (BAD IDEA).

Well, we started to play around with it, asking the usual stupid questions beginners ask. After we got through fooling around (you know pushing the curser giving ourselves the willies) we made an oath on our honor not to kid around anymore.

After that, the thing started working real good and one day we made contact with a spirit named Aberjaime. This fellow was a lot of fun until the day came he gave us a message that basically destroyed the friendship we all had.

Before I tell about what happened, you need to know some background: My friend and his entire family are avid Motocross riders, all except his 16-year-old stepsister. She never was involved at all.

OK, now with that said, on that fateful day when we were "communicating" with old Aberjaime, everything was going as usual until out of the blue came a very foreboding message, which said:


My buddy didn't"t take too kindly to this and got very upset. Somehow everyone there blamed me for pushing the curser (i.e.: faking the message), and the more I denied it, the madder my friend got. He eventually gave me a black eye over the incident, and so both ours and the groups friendship was over.

Three months went by and I was now a freshman at Estancia High School.

One day, when I was coming out of science class, my old friend was standing there. He called me over and in a weepy voice informs me that yesterday his stepsister was riding on the back of her boy friend's motorcycle and the bike hit some gravel. She was thrown into a pile of rocks and even though she had been wearing a helmet, the rocks must have penetrated just so to cause massive brain swelling -- and she died a few days later.

My first thought was of Aberjaime and I mentioned it (another bad idea). My old friend just freaked right out and I almost got another black eye. On that particular day I learned and want to tell others that I strongly suggest you don't mess around with a Ouija board.

This account is all true and I hope I've not offended any of the primary participants by relating this very sad but true story.



Thanks for sending in the story, David. I really appreciate it. It's always sad when a friend loses a family member and this is no exception. It does make you wonder about the power of the Ouija board and where it comes from. Personally I don't mess around with Ouija boards although I guess I did have one when I was little but nothing ever came of it. I can't even remember what happened to it except I have a vague memory of finding it water soaked from one of those storms we had where our basement got flooded and we had to rescue the cat! (But, I'm getting away from the subject again, aren't I?)

Come to think of it, I too used to listen to Black Sabbath (in my dorm room) and one night when we were listening I remember there being a huge thunder and lightening storm outside -- makes me wonder what Ouija boards and Black Sabbath have in common with water?

Oh well, I'm not making a "direct hit" with my comments, however all of a sudden I do have a strange thirst I feel coming on.

Ain't it nice having me back?

Did'ya miss me?



"Teenage AfterGlow"
by Anne Kiner
Hailing From: Gainesville, Florida
Where it Happened:

It all started on a supposedly normal evening one summer in Oregon. My friend Elizabeth and I were sleeping out in a tent on a trampoline in the backyard of her lake house. We had just finished talking, and laid down to sleep when she began to get uneasy. She said she saw a vision in her head of a glowing teenage boy in the bushes on the side of the house.

She said the boy was ragged, like he was a runaway, with sandy colored hair. By this time I was beginning to feel something supernatural also. In her vision the boy seemed to reach out to our tent. Finally after 15 or 20 minutes she told me the vision was beginning to flicker, soon it was gone completely. Because neither of us wanted to leave the protection of our tent we lay scared stiff until sleep finally came.

The next morning we ventured outside at the crack of dawn, but their was no sign of the glowing teenager from the night before. We quickly hurried inside. I would have dismissed the ghostly apparition as the product of an over active imagination if I hadn't overheard a conversation between my mom and hers.

My mother had just driven up to get me earlier that afternoon and was commenting on how bad the roads were getting.

Elizabeth's mother agreed, " You know," she said, "About a year ago a very nice boy came by here, about 19. Well anyway, he said he used to live in this house and wanted to know if we minded him looking around. We told him he was welcome. He looked around, thanked us, and asked if he could come back next year. We of course agreed, but he never got the chance because he died in a truck crash two weeks later."

Is it possible that the ragged, teenage ghost we saw was that boy, back to look at his old house.

Who knows?



"The Band Played On . . . "
by Jason K
Hailing From: Freeport, IL
Where it Happened:
Unknown Locations

These are a series of stories that I've heard about throughout my life. I've heard more than the listed ones, but I'm only going to type the ones that I feel that the storyteller was being completely honest, not stretching the truth in any way, and those who told me the story two or more times, each time being the exact same story. So, here goes . . .

Story #1
This one is from my mother who told me a story one day about when she was a small child. She had a large yard and once when she was all alone, she was looking over a large hill only to see a marching band of about 15-20 people in the middle of nowhere -- playing instruments. Excited, as you can imagine, she quickly ran to get her brothers to see this parade, only to see that they were gone -- and this was a very large field so they couldn't have gone too far.

Later in life it hit her, "What the hell would a marching band be doing in the middle of an open field?!?!?"

Story #2
This one is also from my mom. When she was about 20 years old, she and my father rented an apartment -- and later did they find it to be found haunted. Once she stood straight up in the middle of the night from being dead asleep, she looked at her bedroom door and (in her words) "it was as if a semi truck hit the door it slammed so hard!"

She was frightened and my father never heard anything.

Another time she heard my grandmother yelling for her, but every time she would go to the room where she was, she would be in another room. The apartment could go in a circle, so she said, "Stay where you are mother!!" -- and then it hit her. She called up her mothers house to find that her mother was at home at her own house. She said, "Mother, I'M COMING HOME!!" -- and she moved back with her parents.

Story #3
This story is from my friend, Shane. Shane was walking with about four of his friends and they saw a man dressed in a black trench coat walking in the opposite direction. Seeing him, they both crossed the street at the same time. One of shanes friends said, "F-ing bum," underneath his breath as they passed (well, he used to hang out with jerks). After he said this the trench coated man with whom they did not yet see his face pivoted to stare at them and walked parallel from where they walked on the other side of the street.

One of his friends commented, "It looks like you pissed him off," and the trenchcoated man kept up with them.

One of them waved their hands to wave at the trechcoated man -- who waved back at the EXACT same time. Then one of them gave him the finger, and the trenchcoated man gave him the finger at the EXACT same time.

Then -- the scary part -- as he went past a street light they noticed something horrifying the hat was floating above the trenchcoat!! Now, what I'm saying is the man's head was INVISIBLE!

This really freaked them out, so they ran as fast as they could but the trenchcoated man kept up -- not by running -- well, he did run, but he took HUGE steps like gravity didn't effect him.

The boys fled to a nearby gas station and told the story to a skeptic cashier . Then, when they got enough guts to go back out side they found a pair of boots, a hat and a trenchcoat folded up neatly on a nearby bench.

Story #4
Story #4 is also from Shane. In a nutshell (because the story is too long to explain), there was this guy who took these people out to this trailer and raped and killed women. One time he took this girl out to the trailer (which was supposed to be haunted) and started to . . . but suddenly (from what she said) a red light came up from behind this guys head and his head exploded.

The girl went insane. To this day she is at the mental ward.



"Wings of Comfort"
by Suzie
Hailing From: Harrisonville, Missouri
Where it Happened:
Grandma's House

My story takes place in 1989, just a year after the death of my infant son. I was having a hard time dealing with his death, praying nightly someone would give me a sign that he was all right -- and that he was being taken care of by someone who loved him.

Soon after my son's death, my husband and I moved into his grandmother's old house, and after living there three months I started having trouble sleeping every night. I would wake up in the middle of the night hearing noises like creaking, but I just wrote it off to the house being old -- and that I was probably making something out of nothing.

But this happened for the next few months and on the first year anniversary of my son's death is when "it" happened. On that night my husband and I turned out the lights, went to bed as normal and off to sleep. Then, all of a sudden I sat straight up in bed which is what I had been doing for months -- but on this night it was different.

There was a light in the hall so I wasn't afraid to get out of bed to go and see, and sitting in the hall was a figure in a rocking chair with a baby in their arms, just rocking. When I looked at them I knew exactly who the baby was. While I "knew" I couldn't touch them (and I couldn't see their faces), I felt they were happy . . .

. . . and the chair was creaking the same noise I had been hearing for months.

Later I was telling my husband's uncle about it and he said that when they lived there he would wake up every night to the same noise and walk in the living room and the rocking chair would moving. Now, I'm not an expert on ghosts or hauntings, but it is our family's belief that its not so bad if your ghost just happens to be an angel.



Sorrow is always an unexpected emotion originating from events we fear the most -- tragedy, accident, fate.

Like its cousin sorrow, "Closure" comes at the most unexpected moments and from the least anticipated places, as in this instance where its healing comfort came to you through the elusive corridors of the "Great Divide."

And, it looks as though there was another (and even brighter) sign that night -- you were indeed loved by more than just an angel -- as it is my guess that your son had a lot to do in guiding her to you that night in the hallway.

Thanks for sending in the story. From time to time we receive personal accounts that are very touching, and this one I am sure will have that affect on many readers. A big Ghostories thank you, and welcome to Ghostories.



Addemdum to Wings of Comfort:

There is another very similar story from a reader named Janet -- who told it to me just the other night. Janet, if you are reading this, please send it to me if you can -- I'll place here with this one.




Want to make a dedication to a loved one and at the same time a small contribution to Ghostories? Check out our new Family Name Wall of Fame Memorial Wall

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