Here's one from my Mom, thought you guys might find it as creepy as I did...

My Mother lives in an old farmhouse in Waverly NY (Between Elmira and Binghampton, near the PA border) that is 100+ years old. She grew up there, and her siblings all tell relatively vague (though interesting to those of us that lived there later on) tales of ghostly activity. Mom has always been a local history buff, and has done quite a bit of research on the original occupants of the house and property.

Most of the earlier families are buried in the cemetary across the road, and some of my earliest memories are of imagining what sort of people the Saunders and Van Ripers were while strolling through said graveyard with my Mom. I moved to the other side of the state some years ago, my brother got married and moved into his own place, and about two weeks ago, my sister finally found herself an apartment of her very own, making this the first time my parents have been alone in their own home.

Basking happily in the silence and calm, my mother was washing the three measly dishes in the sink (and doing a little dance, I'm sure; we always dirtied an obscene amount of dishes when the three of us lived at home:), she felt a cold chill. Unremarkable in an old home, especially in a kitchen with a somewhat imperfectly sealed picture window. However, when she finished her task and turned around, there was a six-year-old girl standing about two feet away from her.

At first, Mom was a little confused, but then realized that the child could not possibly be there. She looked solid enough, but several details in her appearance were...well, wierd. The girl had dark hair styled in long ringlets, but slightly messy, not perfect like with a curling iron or anything. She wore a longish off-white dress with a matching pinafore that appeared to have been pressed with a cold iron, so the wrinkles were pressed in, rather than out of the fabric. The girl appeared to be slightly grimy, not perfectly clean, as though she were covered with a film of dust, from her head down to her scuffed leather button-up boots.

Now, my mother can certainly be peculiar, but she certainly isn't insane, nor has she ever had vivid hallucinations before. She didn't tell anyone about this event, for fear they might suggest she check herself into the nearest psychiatric hospital. She went about her business the rest of the day, and tried to put it out of her mind. That evening, her cousin dropped by. It seems a friend of his had bought the house next door to my parent's property, and had found a headstone in the barn behind the house. He assumed that the previous tenants, who were not happy that the house had been sold 'out from under them', had left it there to freak out the friend who had bought the place.

The man had asked my mother's cousin to get rid of it, and he had apparently been driving around with the damn thing in the trunk of his car all day. My mother asked him what name was on the headstone. He couldn't recall the name, maybe Jane something? It belonged to a six-year-old girl, and it was really old, he said, and told my mother to come outside and look at it herself. Mom told him she didn't need to. It belonged across the road, at the end of the second row, where the three trees are planted on the grave, she asserted, clueless as to why she 'knew' this, but certain that she was correct.

She told him to put it back right now, or he would surely get into some trouble. Spooked, her cousin ran out of the house like his tail was on fire to do as my mother had asked. The next morning she felt bad about scaring her cousin like that, and called him to apologize and claim temporary insanity. He told her that he put the headstone where she said it should go, and that there was indeed a grave where she had indicated that had been missing a headstone.

Shortly a friend of my mother's dropped by for coffee, and Mom told her about the bizarre series of events. They decided it might be a good idea to take a walk to the cemetary. The grave in question was indeed at the end of the second row, in the Saunders' family plot. The headstone belonged to 'Mary Saunders', who had died at the age of six some seventy or eighty years ago. There was a little poem on it, something about a 'daughter, fair and bright, may God help keep her through the night'.

When my mother touched the headstone, she had the overwhelming sense that Mary was content and sleeping, happy that she had back her poem.

Now, I can't say for absolute certain that my Mom hasn't lost her mind, but this is the story she told me yesterday, more or less. She's never been one to tell wild stories, so either that was one heck of a coincidental hallucination, or she really did have an encounter with a ghost. I do know that I have a sudden urge to hang out in her kitchen by myself sometime!

CONTENTS

• Little Girl Ghost

• Lady of White Rock Lake

• Grandma

• The Buggy

• True Story

• First Ghost Story

• Prayer Warriors

• Haunted House

• Captain P.

• Ghost Investigation

• Brass Bell

• Old House

• Hail Mary

• The Ghost of Elvis

• Granny's Visit

• Denice's House

There is a small lake on the Northeast side of Dallas that is popular with families who go there to picnic, as well as cyclists, who ride the trails that wind around the lake called White Rock Lake. There is an often told legend about a haunting that takes place there, usually on dark, moonless nights, right around midnight.

from the period of the "roaring '20's" and she claims to have been left at the lake by an angry boyfriend.

I was about 10 years old, and lived in Ft. Riley Kansas.

The road I lived on was horse-shoe shaped, with houses only going up about half of it before they stopped. On the side without any quarters there was this one old, single storey house, that had been boarded up for as long as anyone could remember. Whenever new kids moved onto the street, we would always go there at night and try to scare the hell out of them.

Well, as I was waiting there, I happened to be looking straight in the window when some lightening flashed behind me, lighting the whole place up for a second, and I saw an old woman staring out at me, looking right into my eyes like she knew I was there.

Now, I had been there many times before and I KNOW that there was not a painting, or anyone living in that house. I screamed like you wouldn't believe and took off running like a bat out of hell to my house. I swear on anything I can that whatever it was, it knew I was there. It seemed maybe 3 feet away from me just looking at me.

I found out later that at some time in the past an accident had happened and two kids had died. And, at the time, they were being watched by their granma. I think she was waiting for them to come home, and was checking to see if I was one of them.

Back in the 70's during my first marriage, my mother-in-law would collect all kinds of things and resell them at a higher price. Some of the bigger things she would ask us to hold them in our cellar.

One day she showed up with this Really OLD Wicker baby buggy from like back in the 1800's I guess. As soon as she put that thing in my cellar, I got a chill and a REALLY BAD feeling. I told my husband that I didn't want it here, but he told me to grow up. Of course I was mad at him all day for letting her put it there over my wishes, and I couldn't shake the feeling of fear I had.

By time the day was over and I went down the cellar to the shower room to take my shower, he came up with what he though would be funny and get me to talk to him again. So he waited till I was IN the shower and had the water nice and HOT the way I like it, and he used a rope to tie the door shut on me so I couldn't open it. Then he shut the light out on me and started to pretend that he was a zombie (which I am afraid of).

Only as I was begging him to put the light back on, (and that buggy was only like 12ft away from the shower room) the room turned ICE COLD. The Hot water was still running and as hot as I had it, (which is as hot as my skin can take cause I do like really HOT water) I couldn't feel ANY Heat in there. It actually turned into a deep freeze and at this time I really started to scream at him to let me out. I didn't find out till later, but he really was trying to get that rope off and let me out the whole time, cause he said that besides me screaming, he kept smelling something awful.

There was really nothing I could do from the inside but stand there and scream at him. There also was Nothing in the shower room that could of done to me what happened next.

get the light back on. Finally he did seem to hear me and get the light on and sure enough I had blood running down both of my legs.

It seemed though when he got the light on, the room got warm again and full of steam from the hot water and what ever was in there with me was gone. Just then he got the door open too. I came running out of there grabbing a towel and heading for the steps with him right behind me. He saw my legs and knowing that there was nothing IN the shower room that could explain those scratches, he called his mom right away and told her he didn't care what time it was, to get back up there and get that buggy out of our house.

By time she got back up there, I had my shorts on and was waiting for her. My husband kept telling her to get IT out and she kept wanting to know WHY, and sat herself down at my dining room table till she got a GOOD reason for all this as she put it.

The dining room was right above the shower room in the house and she was just about sitting right above it. We explained what happened and she of course laughed and said " Yeah so then why didn't it get me since I own it, let it just come for me then"

No Lie, JUST then she screamed and pulled her legs out from under the table and sure enough SHE had scratch marks going down both legs that were bleeding. Thats all she finally needed and she yelled to her husband to put that thing in the back of the truck and leave it there. She didn't even care if someone stole it till she got it to a place where she could sell it in the morning. Which is exactly what she did the next day, and I got a priest to come up and bless my house.

Back in 1985 my family moved to a small town in Ohio( !was 10 at the time) and bought a large 5,000 square foot Split-level house that was built in in the late 50's. The house had everything my parents could have imagined, 7bedrooms, 51/2baths, gameroom, tons of closets, and even an indoor swimming pool.

Even before they bought the house they were wondering why the house was so cheap, it was in perfect condition and only on the market for 1/3 of its apprasial value. But the ispections all came back with flying colors, not an ant or rotton board in the house. So with out a second thought they bought the house.

Things were great for about the first year and a half, but then things started to happen. It was little things at first, like doors slamming lights some how turning on, tv sets going blank for a few seconds, ect. Its also about this time that my mom started to have a frightful re-acuring dream about a man watching her.

Well it was a second year in the house and the strange happens were about to take a frightful turn. It was July 4th, and my mom was alone in the Bar room located on the lower level. She was cleaning the mirros that covered the entire room, when all of the sudden my mother let out a scream that I will never forget, I can still hear it to this day. My sister and I were at the dining room table when we hear the scream. Being 12 and 8 at the time we were horrified and took off to her.

I came to the locked Bar room doors and could hear my mother crying on the other side. My heart was pounding and I was crying as I screamed for her to let me in. She quickly opened the door feel to the floor and hugged us, we were all crying, and I didnt even know why. My mother still very shaken took us outside to gazabo and telling us everything would be ok. At this point I was confused and wondering what had happend, for she would not say.

A few hours later my Father and my three brothers came home from a july 4th ball game at the park. Without seeing she (my mother) was quite shaken, he said "So are we ready to go see some fire works!". Then Mom ran up to him and started crying just like she had earlier. Then i finaly got to here what happened. She said " Iris, I seen it, I seen it, OH MY GOD I SEEN IT!". My Dad asked her "What?, seem what?", (mom) " Something /someone, it is evil I know it is". Later I would learn that while she was cleaning the mirrors she had seen soeone looking back at her, and then it sarted to smile and it just kept smiling until an evil almost laughing devilish face apeared in the mirror looking RIGHT AT HER.

Over the next two years there would be my more horrible and frightning experiences for the whole family. By this time my Grandparents had moved in with us and things finally started to calm down when the biggest tragedy of my life occured, my Brother David R. Worth drowned in our swimming pool at the age of 22.

The whole family was devistaded. This death would be followed by the death of ALL the family pets over the next 3months. Then all this would be followed by the death of my Grandmother who died late one October night. She had been ill for a long time and Doctors didn't give much hope, so we were expecting it. But as she lie there dieing with the whole family around her, she said "David is here for me" she went on it was so moving yet I cant remember everything she said, all I know is the house was PURE that day no evil could distroy our LOVE!

After Gandmas death the disturbance once again picked up, and finally after years of just letting it happen my Mother and Father started to research the house. They questioned the neighbors, but being so far from them they knew little or nothing about its history except that the house had had 12 owners before my parents, this they found both strange and alarming. They went to library and got all the information and documents they could but they had nothing on them. Then one day by accident (literaly) she ran into a women who used to live in the house across the street back in the 50s.

She told my mother a story about the the original owner/builder. She said the he (the 1st owner) was looking for an inexpessive way to built a grand and large house. The cheapest method he could come up with to employ cheap labor, in this case illegal imigrants. Well construction was going fine until local athourities got word of this from building inspectors. Getting word of this in a panic he rushed to get rid of them and in the procces one of the men were somehow killed. The body believed buried somewere on the property.

My partents somewhat skeptical of the story went to the library and looked through papers and sure enough the first owner of the house had been arrested ( I have forgotten what the charge was), but there was no mention of a worker who had died there.

Then finaly in 1997 my parents sold that house to a company who was going to build a mini-mall on the site. Not more than two months after it was sold they started to raze the house when a horrible discovery was made( this made national news) the body of a man was found within a small hidden area of the basement (infact the orignal plans show the space as a closet, we just never caught on to this).

This is actually the first ghost story I ever remember hearing -- my mother told it to me when I was about eight years old.

As some time has passed since that telling, I unfortunately don't remeber the exact location of the setting. It's somewhere near Gainesville, FL (Mom's hometown), and I THINK it may have been old Williston Road out beyond the city limits in the late 50's-early 60's. For the sake of the narrative, I'll pretend that's it.

Back before the encroachment of urban sprawl and its artificial lights, the country roads in central Florida could get VERY dark on moonless nights. It was on one such night that a man was driving home rather late. It was warm, and he had his driver-side window down, his left arm resting along the ledge as he drove. After a few miles, he saw a single light coming toward him, close to the dividing line in the middle of the road.

was burned out, so all the man saw was the right headlight as the truck barrelled down the middle of the road and plowed into him. The man was killed instantly. The arm that he'd had resting in the window was severed and flung into the woods, and one of his headlights was knocked clear of the wreckage. Later, officials at the scene of the crash searched and searched for the arm and the headlight, but neither was ever recovered. That's the background.

Now, if you drive out to that lonely stretch of road on moonless nights and park your car over on the shoulder and wait, eventually you'll see a light. My mom says this is true -- a date took her out there once as a prank. They saw a light way off in the distance, and gradually it got closer and closer until is seemed to touch their windshield and vanish. They say that it's the accident victim out with the headlight that the police never found, searching for his missing arm.

Fourteen years ago I spent the summer house-sitting in San Pedro, CA, at the home of some senior citizens who were visiting their grandkids in another state. I was 18 and it was my first time living on my own.The house was an old Cape Cod style, with some odd features like a bridge that led from the master bedroom balcony across the backyard to the garage. I slept in the guest room just at the top of the stairs.

One night I got home at about 2am after spending an evening out with friends. (Just in case anyone wonders, I had not been drinking or using any other substances). Just as I got into bed I heard someone jiggling the doorknob at the backdoor, which was off the kitchen downstairs. The door opened and then closed, and I heard heavy footsteps crossing the kitchen. I can only describe them as a man's determined footsteps..

while you are in bed, you should pretend to be asleep. The door to my bedroom was open and I was lying on my side, facing away from it. The footsteps came up the stairs heavily and slowly, and then came into my room and stopped at my bed. I laid there pretending to be asleep with my heart pounding for what may have been 30 seconds or 5 minutes, I don't know. .

Finally, ready to explode, I jumped up and turned around. There was no one there. I leapt out of bed saying "Jesus, Jesus," and ran through the house turning on lights, until I made it out the front door. I drove to a girlfriend's house in my nightgown and never slept in that house again. .

I live in rural Virginia, and my high school, believe it or not, was in between two pastures in a very agrarian area. Although I was never much into sports, I had a few friends who were, and several were on the cross-country running team. The course laid out for the cross country track took a meandering path around the school, then out into the pastures around the school (with the permission of the farmers, of course).

One part of the course took the runners past an immense old farmhouse, abandoned and dilapidated on the crest of a hill overlooking the school. There were, of course, rumors that it was haunted, but to my knowledge no one ever saw or heard anything there. It was just a big, old, spooky, abandoned house. At times, the CC runners did see someone poking around there, but it was obviously the owner of the property as they would see his truck parked in front of the place, and they could see that he was using the downstairs rooms to store equipment and surplus hay. That being said, I shall relate the story of my friend on the CC run, and the subsequent discovery made by myself and some intrepid companions one day...

She told this to her circle of friends, and some of us decided to check the place out the following day (which was, fortunately, a Saturday). So, we met in the field at noon and tromped off to explore.

What we found there was the typical old falling-apart famhouse. Empty rooms (except for the equipment and such), creaky floor boards, and piles of wet shattered plaster, beer bottles, graffiti, and cigarette butts. Then we rounded the corner from the old living room to go upstairs, and each of us stopped dead in our tracks.... There were no stairs.

Apparently, the stairwell had collapsed into the cellar long ago, leaving only a yawning opening 10 feet above a tangled pile of old timbers on the cellar floor below. And yet, Candy had sworn she had seen someone walk by an upstairs window. We explored the house more completely, now being VERY careful since we knew just how bad off the place really was. We didnt find any second staircase, and there was no way to reach the second floor. Its a mystery that has remained unsolved, as in the middle of our exploration we heard the truck door slam outside, and we all beat a hasty retreat out the back so we wouldnt get caught tresspassing. I dont know if it was a ghost she saw, or if it were someone who could climb like an orangutan, but its all a moot point now.

I was 16 or 17 years old and worked as a shrimper out of Beaufort, NC. I was trained as mate by the owner (Capt. F) of the boat who was 72 years old and lacked the strength and stamina of his younger years.

Finally, I was given command of this 25' channel net boat. The boat was moored at an old fish house on Taylor's Creek that was literally built in one day by the boat owner's father, "Capt. P" in the 1930's. I had strange feelings while working in the old fish house quite often, but never felt anything malevolent. Other sounds were heard, but I always attributed the sounds to nets and other equipment settling in the loft and other places (this place was stuffed). Capt. P when alive had a reputation for being a hard and even abusive individual. He supposedly tolerated few people and was particularly hard on his boys (I knew two of them well).

One night I was shrimping in the river when a huge storm started approaching from the West. Quickly, I retrieved the net into the towed skiff, and headed for the fish house just as the storm hit. The storm was as bad as I had assumed it would be and I could only move at a slow pace. The seas in the river rose up to about four feet and the rain came down in torrents, but I eventually reached the relative safety of Taylor's Creek. The rain and wind subsided before I reached the fish house, but the lightening was still illuminating the skies as the storm passed to the East.

During a few of the lightening flashes, I saw a face looking out of the window wearing a pair of glasses. The face was definitely a male face and he had a thoughtful look on his face. As I approached the dock, I saw Capt. F. standing on the dock frantically pacing back and forth. He helped to tie the boat, inquired to my safety, and then went on board to make sure that the boat was ok.

As I walked through the door to the fish house, I saw Capt. F's wife sitting on the old couch that was inside. She was very calm and was smiling cheerfully. I asked her what she found amusing and she said she was laughing at her husband being in such a tizzy over my safety. She then stated that she knew I was ok because Capt. P. told her so. I asked if Capt. P wore glasses and she went on to describe the wire rimmed glasses I had seen during my approach. She added that Capt. P. has been standing by the window, amused at his son's antics on the dock.

ASSOCIATED PRESS March 25, 1999

Ghostbusters: Paranormal researchers used a device that reacts to fields of electricity during a visit to the Moss Beach Distillery on Half Moon Bay. They were looking for the Blue Lady, an apparition that supposedly appears throughout the eatery.

MOSS BEACH -- Plates of seared halibut and steamed mussels keep patrons well fed at the Moss Beach Distillery, perched on a steep cliff-side overlooking the sea. For dessert, the Blue Lady beats the New York cheesecake hands down. The Blue Lady is neither food nor drink, but a ghostly apparition that is said to haunt the restaurant in search of her long-lost lover.

Fortunately for many restaurant and hotel proprietors throughout the state, the Blue Lady is not alone. From the fog-drenched Moss Beach Distillery to the Brookdale Lodge in the Santa Cruz Mountains, businesses throughout California use legends of spooky spirits to lure customers.

The Blue Lady was apparently a young woman named Kate who was embroiled in a love triangle with a barroom piano player and another woman. "The other woman, the other part of that triangle, supposedly threw herself off of a cliff to her death below," said Bill Gillespie, who markets the legend to draw in customers.

After dying in a car accident, the Blue Lady now appears content to wander the restrooms and dining area in search of company. Recently, a team of ghost busters attempted to flush her out for a waiting camera crew. Paranormal investigator Loyd Auerbach participated in the two-night search. He says ghost-busting is intriguing work.

"This phenomenon does not frighten me at all," Auerbach said of hunting spirits seemingly stuck between worlds. "If they're stuck, it should be up to us to help unstick them." A few motion detectors went off during a seance in which a psychic tried to contact the Blue Lady, but there were no swaying lamps that she's known for causing.

And I'm looking in the mirror and all of a sudden I hear the toilet seat (move), and I'm like, 'What the hell?' " Rafael Huerta said. Sylvia Huerta also heard strange noises in the ladies' room.

"There was one lady when I walked in there. And I went inside the restroom and then I heard her drying her hands. And then she turned on the dryer, but the dryer didn't sound like a normal dryer. It sounded like people talking," she said. "Oh my God, I was like freaked out. I turned pale." Like the Moss Beach Distillery, the Brookdale Lodge is reportedly rampant with bumps in the night.

Tucked away in the Santa Cruz Mountains, 49 miles south of San Francisco, the lodge was built in 1900 by James Logan. In the decades to come, it quickly became a favorite haunt for mobsters and starlets. By the 1940s, liquor, prostitution and gambling were mainstays. Out at the glass-bottomed sunken pool, bathing beauties in numbered swimsuits were ordered up to private rooms as easily as room service.

Sara, the 10-year-old niece of a former owner, drowned in a creek that rushes through the main dining room. Visitors say they've seen her ghost gliding through the room. More recently, mysterious chunks of ice have appeared suddenly on the dining room floor and a lifeguard reported hearing a large splash in the pool, only to turn and find the pool and room empty.

Word of Sara's ghost spread quickly and researchers such as Auerbach have scoured the dusty rafters and the pool room for signs of it. "We've never really shopped it around. I don't know how the word got out," said manager Tobin Umland. "People who feel in touch with ghosts like to go places and see if they can make contact."

Umland said Sara's ghost hasn't translated into big bucks, but it has given the place even more character. Auerbach says he is convinced these more ephemeral spirits are good business. "In England, you're not anybody if you don't have an old house with a ghost in it," Auerbach said.

My mother took an old doorbell from the farmhouse....it was big, round, and made of solid brass. It had a pull string on it that was attached to a hammer that would cause the bell to chime. I truly believe that thing carried "haunts" with it, and my reasons are below:

All my life, in every house we lived in, "weird" things happened. After leaving the farmhouse, we went back to our house to live for the next 2 years. I remember seeing my sister Tanya "fly" down the stairs. She would stand on the landing at the top and close her eyes, lift her arms straight out at her sides and in a blink she'd be at the bottom. I thought for many years I had imagined this until I asked if this were true and was told that indeed my sister would seem to fly down the stairs. I remember sitting in the sink in a yellow dishpan as my mother bathed me and our dog was barking outside the window and I remember telling him to hush, Mom says I was about 4 months old when that happened.

The dog's name was Bigfoot and I couldn't say that so I said "Shup Boot"....I do remember that. I also remember that I used to ride on the dog's back as if he were a horse and that he would never let me near this one tree in our back yard, he would bark and throw fits until someone came out and got me. Turns out that several months before my parents moved there, a young child had been killed when a huge branch fell on her....the dog knew that. There were other vague memories of that house....ones to insignificant to mention.

After leaving there, we moved across town to a different more modern house. My sister and I would now share a bedroom but we had an enormous play room at the front of the house. The bathroom was accessed through our room and you could get in from either the kitchen or the living room. Also there was a large walk in closet in our room where my sister used to love to play. This may sound cruel but I am nearly 26 years old and I am still terrified of midgets because of an event that occurred in this house.

The very next night, my father had been drinking heavily and in a rage he brought his 3 foot long, razor sharp machete down into my bed, missing my feet by mere centimeters swearing there were demons. The next day my mom, my sister, a house guest and I were all in the house when we heard someone screaming outside so we followed mom to the door. My Mom stood at the glass storm door, the house guest behind her, my sister behind him and me in the very rear....the glass in the door exploded past everyone and left a huge gash on my forehead.

Many other things happened there and followed us into the house my mom lives in still. We moved there in 1979, a month after I turned 6. In my teen years, as I had been asking questions about the memories I was having, my mom's brass bell came clearly to mind and I asked her if it had come from the farmhouse and she said yes. I begged her to get rid of it, didn't she know better than to take something from a place like that?! After telling my sister, she helped me convince mom to get rid of it, mom knew we meant business afterall by this time we both had husbands and children to think of and Tanya's husband had already been attacked (more on that later).

She did take it out of the house and we lived uneventful for many months. Then one day my mother's car broke down....a perfectly healthy car that had recently gotten a tune up suddenly broke down....no one really thought anything of it until the car was checked out and nothing was found to be wrong and the following week I borrowed the car to go to the doctor and at 55 miles per hour around a curve the car stopped. I never knew a car could just die like that but it did and nearly caused me to flip it.

I wanted to tell you about my grandparent's house. Me and a couple of my cousins spent alot of time there when we were young. My grandparents used to watch us while our parents were at work. There are 4 of us close to my age and we could really mix it up when we were young. There was 3 of us girls and 1 boy. I am an only child, the other 2 girls are twins 6 months older than me, and the boy is 3 months younger than me. My grandparent's house is pretty big. They have never used the upstairs for anything but storage space. This made a great place for us to kill time when we were kids.

We were all in one room doing something when in the next room we heard some awful moaning. When we would step out into the hall it would quit. One time we got brave and looked in the room, but it was empty. There is more things that happened in the house. My cousins and me spent most of our time there until we were around 16. Even today we sometimes see strange things upstairs.

My cousin used to live in the bottom flat of an old apartment complex. Before these apartments were there, there was a restaurant in which a lady committed suicide (I don't know why). Before the restaurant was there it was just swampland, and hey, we all know about swamps, right?

This happened around the time I was 12 and she was 14. My sister and I usually spent the weekends with them, and us cousins would have a great time staying up late and telling spooky stories. Anyway, C told me about how when she was in the flat alone, doors would slam all by themselves, even though the windows were closed and there wasn't a draught or a gust of wind anywhere. Her sister, J, confirmed this and said that it had happened to her as well, when she had been there by herself. The next weekend C looked really excited and said she had to tell us something urgently. We hustled into the bedroom and C told us what had happened to her during the week.

So she began to say the prayer "Our Father..." in her mind, and nothing changed, and she was starting to get dizzy due to the lack of oxygen. C was going to a Catholic school at the time, and she recalled that one of her teachers had told her to pray to the Virign Mary if she needed help, because Mary always responded in spite of how much faith the supplicant had. So she started saying "Hail Mary..." and the choking stopped and she could breathe again.

While at home for Thanksgiving, I was sleeping on the sofa in the livingroom. Before going to bed I made my nightly rounds of making sure everything was shut off and the doors were locked (it's a habit). I laid down on the couch and went to sleep.

I know I turned it off before I went to sleep but it was on full blast. Needless to say I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

My mother's mother was a fantasic lady....born and raised in West Viriginia she stood around 6'3" and was a genuine treasure in my life. We called her Granny. She died in January of 1992 and took part of me with her, I've never been good with goodbyes at all.

One night in 1996, my mom had been working on a crochet piece for Valentine's Day (mom is sooo crafty!) and she showed it to me before going to bed because it seemed she had been working on it for awhile and I asked how she was coming along with it. She had it about 3/4 of the way done but was too tired to go on so she left it on the kitchen table and went to bed.

You could see a distinct change in the way the crochet was done....the stitches were loose and a little sloppy, Mom's stitches were always uniform and tight and perfect. I went to my room and got the only ting I had ever known Granny to crochet, an afghan she had made years before, and although the yarn used was very different, the style of stitching matched....loose and kind of sloppy.

Denice and I have been friends since 6th grade. She lived dow the street from me for years. The house she lived in was small, and had a back portion added on. I was fine as long as I stayed in the front part of the house.But I was so scared to walk through the back part I didn't know why at the time but I always felt I needed to keep looking behind me as I walked through. Finally I was forced to figure it out.

We had a small get together one night and the front bathroom wasn't working so Denice had to use the one in the back.It was just a little makeshift bathroom with a very dim light.The next thing I know she runs out with her pants half way down and mad as hell. She claimed one of us was in the back whispering her name,trying to scare her.

We finally got her to calm down and explain what happened. She said she was sitting there and she herd someone say denice.....Denice........DENICE!

The voice was very strange like he had a very soar throat. That was only the beginning.

Her room was upstaires (part of the add on) and I would spend the night on several occasions and something weird would always happen.I would wake up at night to the sound of loud footsteps running up the stairs and expect to see her sister come into the room but never saw anyone. Or I would here the usuall footsteps then here them go across the room twice and then back down the stairs (watching for someone the whole time) never seeing anything.

At first I thought it was just me over reacting until one night it happened and I called out to Denice to see if she might be awake(I was so scared I felt frozen in place.) and she said SHHH. She had herd it too,we were so scared we jumped up and turned on the light and ran down stairs to sleep.