<![CDATA[MyGhostStory.com - Haunted Places]]> https://myghoststory.com/ Sat, 17 Oct 2026 09:41:06 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Haunted Forts]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Haunted-Forts Fri, 31 May 2024 16:28:04 +0000 AceOf_Spades]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Haunted-Forts
Fort Ebey and Worden was another story. Ebey isn't taken care of at all. There's pentacles all over the walls, straight down dangerous drops, unhinged doors, and metal screws all over the floors. I had the great idea to go through its cement mazes ALONE. I encountered three spirits working in one room, then lots of random singing. It was, in summary, absolutely horrifying. In the lookout tower, I also could have sworn I saw somebody looking through the spyglass. Fort Worden was also pretty freaky. It had a stairway straight down into complete darkness (which of course I had to go down). In said darkness, there was an unlit maze (which I got lost in). I saw a few floating things down there, and also something was throwing rocks at me. Not as freaky as Ebey, of course. Can't wait to go back to them this summer! [Image: 6659fa1a0022a_images%20(47).jpeg]]]>
Fort Ebey and Worden was another story. Ebey isn't taken care of at all. There's pentacles all over the walls, straight down dangerous drops, unhinged doors, and metal screws all over the floors. I had the great idea to go through its cement mazes ALONE. I encountered three spirits working in one room, then lots of random singing. It was, in summary, absolutely horrifying. In the lookout tower, I also could have sworn I saw somebody looking through the spyglass. Fort Worden was also pretty freaky. It had a stairway straight down into complete darkness (which of course I had to go down). In said darkness, there was an unlit maze (which I got lost in). I saw a few floating things down there, and also something was throwing rocks at me. Not as freaky as Ebey, of course. Can't wait to go back to them this summer! [Image: 6659fa1a0022a_images%20(47).jpeg]]]> <![CDATA[A Ghostly Visitor]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-A-Ghostly-Visitor Mon, 18 Feb 2019 01:16:22 +0000 Www.hauntedhistoryjaunts.com]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-A-Ghostly-Visitor
I have always had trouble sleeping being a bit of an insomniac.  One night as I was on the couch, watching something mindless on TV, I heard someone walking around in the kitchen behind me.  At first I was just confused but that quickly turned to unease when I heard something fall in the kitchen.

Someone was walking around my kitchen and just knocked something over!

Swallowing down the large knot of fear that formed in my throat, I stood on shaky legs and walked around the couch towards the kitchen.  Feeling very unnerved, with my hair standing on end and my heart beating fast, I hesitated to enter the kitchen.  As I was peeking around the couch, my body trembling with fear, I was scared that there really was an intruder in my house.  I grabbed the bat we keep by the front door, took a deep breath, raised the bat and ran into the kitchen, flipping the light switch as I went.  My arms were up and I was ready to swing.

The kitchen was empty...

Feeling quite shook up and confused, afterall I knew what I heard, I replaced the bat and decided to head to bed.

Over the next few years, soft footsteps walking back and forth in the upstairs hallway became a frequent occurance in the middle of the night.  But beyond that, we never saw or heard much to cause concern.

Until we began demolishing the kitchen and bedroom downstairs and a bathroom upstairs!  This activity definitely woke something up.

One afternoon I decided to come home to my empty, half tore apart house for lunch.  I was in a rush so I came in and began pulling out the making for a PB&J.  As I started to make my sandwich, I very clearly heard someone whispering upstairs, like someone was up there trying to be quiet.  Instantly I got very mad..
 Afterall, this could only be my son upstairs skipping school!  So I march up the stairs yelling for him and telling him to get his butt out here now.  I was a little suprised when he didn't respond.  So I searched his room...found nothing.   Searched the other rooms, including the bathroom... found nothing...  At this point I was more annoyed than anything so I went back downstairs yelling behind me that I just don't have time for this today.

I finished making my sandwich and decided to use the bathroom before I left.  As I turned the corner to go into the downstairs bathroom I felt and heard a loud stomp on the floor directly above my head.  This stopped me short and my heart started to race.  I was staring up at the ceiling and yelling in my stern mom voice "Who is up there?  You come down right now!" 

I heard foot steps walk down the upstairs hallway and stop just at the top of those steps.  There is a wall that begins about halfway up the steps, so I couldn't see anything from where I was standing.  I fully admit that I was feeling very uneasy and scared right now.

Then I heard something step onto the first step, loudly, as if my husband was stomping his work boot on the step.  BANG!   and it stopped... BANG another step... BANG   and it stopped again.

My heart was racing, my cheeks were flushed and I was sweating.  In full fight or flight mode now, I was frozen into place and breathing heavy.  I couldn't see anything yet but one or two more steps would bring him into view.  Just as I was taking a deep breath in, I heard another loud step down.  One more step and I would be facing whatever this nightmare was.  I had already checked the entire upstairs so I knew there wasn't someone there.

BOOM..BOOM  It sounded as if someone took both of their feet at once and jumped up so they could slam down on that step so loud and hard that the house rattled.  Yes, everything around me shook.  In a panic now, I almost peaked around the wall to see who...or what..was on steps... But in the end, panic won out.  I turned away, grabbed my sandwich and ran from the house.

Halfway back to work I realized my kids would be home long before me today... How could I expect them to face this all alone....

See  Part 2  (coming soon) - to see what happened next.]]>
I have always had trouble sleeping being a bit of an insomniac.  One night as I was on the couch, watching something mindless on TV, I heard someone walking around in the kitchen behind me.  At first I was just confused but that quickly turned to unease when I heard something fall in the kitchen.

Someone was walking around my kitchen and just knocked something over!

Swallowing down the large knot of fear that formed in my throat, I stood on shaky legs and walked around the couch towards the kitchen.  Feeling very unnerved, with my hair standing on end and my heart beating fast, I hesitated to enter the kitchen.  As I was peeking around the couch, my body trembling with fear, I was scared that there really was an intruder in my house.  I grabbed the bat we keep by the front door, took a deep breath, raised the bat and ran into the kitchen, flipping the light switch as I went.  My arms were up and I was ready to swing.

The kitchen was empty...

Feeling quite shook up and confused, afterall I knew what I heard, I replaced the bat and decided to head to bed.

Over the next few years, soft footsteps walking back and forth in the upstairs hallway became a frequent occurance in the middle of the night.  But beyond that, we never saw or heard much to cause concern.

Until we began demolishing the kitchen and bedroom downstairs and a bathroom upstairs!  This activity definitely woke something up.

One afternoon I decided to come home to my empty, half tore apart house for lunch.  I was in a rush so I came in and began pulling out the making for a PB&J.  As I started to make my sandwich, I very clearly heard someone whispering upstairs, like someone was up there trying to be quiet.  Instantly I got very mad..
 Afterall, this could only be my son upstairs skipping school!  So I march up the stairs yelling for him and telling him to get his butt out here now.  I was a little suprised when he didn't respond.  So I searched his room...found nothing.   Searched the other rooms, including the bathroom... found nothing...  At this point I was more annoyed than anything so I went back downstairs yelling behind me that I just don't have time for this today.

I finished making my sandwich and decided to use the bathroom before I left.  As I turned the corner to go into the downstairs bathroom I felt and heard a loud stomp on the floor directly above my head.  This stopped me short and my heart started to race.  I was staring up at the ceiling and yelling in my stern mom voice "Who is up there?  You come down right now!" 

I heard foot steps walk down the upstairs hallway and stop just at the top of those steps.  There is a wall that begins about halfway up the steps, so I couldn't see anything from where I was standing.  I fully admit that I was feeling very uneasy and scared right now.

Then I heard something step onto the first step, loudly, as if my husband was stomping his work boot on the step.  BANG!   and it stopped... BANG another step... BANG   and it stopped again.

My heart was racing, my cheeks were flushed and I was sweating.  In full fight or flight mode now, I was frozen into place and breathing heavy.  I couldn't see anything yet but one or two more steps would bring him into view.  Just as I was taking a deep breath in, I heard another loud step down.  One more step and I would be facing whatever this nightmare was.  I had already checked the entire upstairs so I knew there wasn't someone there.

BOOM..BOOM  It sounded as if someone took both of their feet at once and jumped up so they could slam down on that step so loud and hard that the house rattled.  Yes, everything around me shook.  In a panic now, I almost peaked around the wall to see who...or what..was on steps... But in the end, panic won out.  I turned away, grabbed my sandwich and ran from the house.

Halfway back to work I realized my kids would be home long before me today... How could I expect them to face this all alone....

See  Part 2  (coming soon) - to see what happened next.]]> <![CDATA[Trolls, Out of Body Experiences, and the Mystery of the Shaking bed]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Trolls-Out-of-Body-Experiences-and-the-Mystery-of-the-Shaking-bed Sun, 05 Aug 2018 13:41:17 +0000 CamQuinn]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Trolls-Out-of-Body-Experiences-and-the-Mystery-of-the-Shaking-bed A little background to set the scene. The room had a concrete floor painted red, a throw rug, next to the door was my brother’s TV and DVD player, then the closet, across from that was my bed and at the foot of the bed was my desk. Above my desk was a small window that was literally at ground level. The wall across from my bed also held a window and beneath it was a large shelf with books, crystals, and art supplies.
Early one morning, I woke up to a scurrying sound. I immediately thought it was a mouse (or worse the farm next store was dealing with a rat problem). It was one of those situations I really didn’t want to deal with or think about so I pulled my blankets tight around me and tried to go back to bed. (Sleep is really important to me).  Then I heard it. A very distinct giggle. It sounded strange. Not like a toy or person. I put the pillow over my head and tried to go to bed over the sound of my heart pounding.
The next day I reported the incident to my sister (who used to sleep in the basement bedroom). She told me she’d had a similar experience. But she’d looked and in the moonlight from the window was this little giggling figure. It was fat with a large toothy grin and grunted when it moved. As soon as it noticed her watching, it scuttled to the door and into the basement. After that, I never slept with the door open again. Not sure that would have made a difference but it made me feel better. The only thing we could think to call it was a troll.

Not long after that, I was in my room taking a nap (being a teenager is hard) when I was woken up by the bed moving. It was shaking violently. I sat up thinking it was an earthquake and ran to the door frame. I was standing there for a few minutes before I realized nothing in my room had fallen or shifted at all. I went upstairs and sure enough, nothing was broken and no one was bothered. The next time it happened was in the middle of the night and I stayed in the bed until it stopped. It only took a few minutes but this time I was sure it was only the bed that was moving. It happened a few more times, each time the duration was less until it just stopped. I have no idea what it was or why. Just that my bed liked to shake me awake.

And last but definitely not least was the time I got stuck outside my body. This doesn’t sound like a ghost story but the guy who helped me back in was not of this world. So my sister told me about how she was practicing leaving her body. You know how people have out of body experiences? Apparently, you can do it on purpose with practice. So I tried it too. I tried and tried and nothing ever happened and I was starting to think I just wasn’t the right person to do this. My mind was weak or whatever and it just wouldn’t happen. Well shortly after giving up, I woke up in the middle of the night staring at my body. Like anyone else, I thought I was dreaming. I went about the dream moving through rooms and things and then there was this guy with me. He was a teenager, black hair, bright blue eyes, and he wore a band T and converse. (He might have been the inspiration for the MC in my books) He told me I needed to go back. So I did. The next thing I remember I’m half in and half out of my body and there’s a dog, a big white wolf looking thing, trying to eat me. Its snarling and chomping and trying to get my legs, I couldn’t move half of my body and this guy is yelling at me. He was giving me instructions. I wish I had written this down when it happened. I don’t remember what he said to me exactly but I got back in my body and the dog was gone. So was the guy. I never tried to leave my body again. I’ve done a lot of reading on it since And I know I’ve left it at night a couple times since but never on purpose.

Next time I think I’ll fast forward out of the teen years to my first apartment in NC. Where I got the creepiest visitor baring the news I’d been praying for.]]> A little background to set the scene. The room had a concrete floor painted red, a throw rug, next to the door was my brother’s TV and DVD player, then the closet, across from that was my bed and at the foot of the bed was my desk. Above my desk was a small window that was literally at ground level. The wall across from my bed also held a window and beneath it was a large shelf with books, crystals, and art supplies.
Early one morning, I woke up to a scurrying sound. I immediately thought it was a mouse (or worse the farm next store was dealing with a rat problem). It was one of those situations I really didn’t want to deal with or think about so I pulled my blankets tight around me and tried to go back to bed. (Sleep is really important to me).  Then I heard it. A very distinct giggle. It sounded strange. Not like a toy or person. I put the pillow over my head and tried to go to bed over the sound of my heart pounding.
The next day I reported the incident to my sister (who used to sleep in the basement bedroom). She told me she’d had a similar experience. But she’d looked and in the moonlight from the window was this little giggling figure. It was fat with a large toothy grin and grunted when it moved. As soon as it noticed her watching, it scuttled to the door and into the basement. After that, I never slept with the door open again. Not sure that would have made a difference but it made me feel better. The only thing we could think to call it was a troll.

Not long after that, I was in my room taking a nap (being a teenager is hard) when I was woken up by the bed moving. It was shaking violently. I sat up thinking it was an earthquake and ran to the door frame. I was standing there for a few minutes before I realized nothing in my room had fallen or shifted at all. I went upstairs and sure enough, nothing was broken and no one was bothered. The next time it happened was in the middle of the night and I stayed in the bed until it stopped. It only took a few minutes but this time I was sure it was only the bed that was moving. It happened a few more times, each time the duration was less until it just stopped. I have no idea what it was or why. Just that my bed liked to shake me awake.

And last but definitely not least was the time I got stuck outside my body. This doesn’t sound like a ghost story but the guy who helped me back in was not of this world. So my sister told me about how she was practicing leaving her body. You know how people have out of body experiences? Apparently, you can do it on purpose with practice. So I tried it too. I tried and tried and nothing ever happened and I was starting to think I just wasn’t the right person to do this. My mind was weak or whatever and it just wouldn’t happen. Well shortly after giving up, I woke up in the middle of the night staring at my body. Like anyone else, I thought I was dreaming. I went about the dream moving through rooms and things and then there was this guy with me. He was a teenager, black hair, bright blue eyes, and he wore a band T and converse. (He might have been the inspiration for the MC in my books) He told me I needed to go back. So I did. The next thing I remember I’m half in and half out of my body and there’s a dog, a big white wolf looking thing, trying to eat me. Its snarling and chomping and trying to get my legs, I couldn’t move half of my body and this guy is yelling at me. He was giving me instructions. I wish I had written this down when it happened. I don’t remember what he said to me exactly but I got back in my body and the dog was gone. So was the guy. I never tried to leave my body again. I’ve done a lot of reading on it since And I know I’ve left it at night a couple times since but never on purpose.

Next time I think I’ll fast forward out of the teen years to my first apartment in NC. Where I got the creepiest visitor baring the news I’d been praying for.]]> <![CDATA[Haunted Hotel]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Haunted-Hotel Mon, 30 Jul 2018 20:44:47 +0000 ghostgirl]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Haunted-Hotel Whatever was present would also turn on the television. I was warned on my first day that things would happen in this room and paid no heed to these rumours until while making a bed and rustling the sheets noisily, I became suddenly aware of hearing muffled voices and noticing the telly was on! I can get gooseflesh just thinking back on those moments. Wherever you were in that place, it felt like someone was in there watching you.
I later learned the architect of the hotel had taken his own life by jumping from its roof, he’d thought the design of the place was all wrong, apparently the construction team had read the plans incorrectly and built it back to front.]]> Whatever was present would also turn on the television. I was warned on my first day that things would happen in this room and paid no heed to these rumours until while making a bed and rustling the sheets noisily, I became suddenly aware of hearing muffled voices and noticing the telly was on! I can get gooseflesh just thinking back on those moments. Wherever you were in that place, it felt like someone was in there watching you.
I later learned the architect of the hotel had taken his own life by jumping from its roof, he’d thought the design of the place was all wrong, apparently the construction team had read the plans incorrectly and built it back to front.]]> <![CDATA[House in Hager Park part 2]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-House-in-Hager-Park-part-2 Wed, 18 Jul 2018 02:22:24 +0000 Manda]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-House-in-Hager-Park-part-2 My parents had converted the attic into a hang out spot for us, they hung sheets up to make "walls" and kept all the normal attic storage behind them.

We spent a lot of time up there, very rarely alone though. It never felt bad up there per say, but you definitely felt like someone was in the room with you. As an adult, that feeling doesn't bother me at all, but as a teenager, I always felt a little uneasy about it.  

One day I was up there alone drawing and started feeling a slight breeze. Which was really strange because none of the windows were up. That's when I looked over and saw one of the hanging sheets move as though someone had just walked under it. I panicked and jumped up to run down the stairs, I was moving so fast I tripped and started to fall forward right at the top of the stairs, when suddenly, somehow, someone grabbed me and pulled me upright. It felt like a literal hand around my wrist, but how? It shocked me to my core. My wrist felt strange, almost numb. I ended up just sitting there for a long while just trying to grasp what I had just experienced and finally decided that whatever I had witnessed prior to the almost fall meant no harm.

As I stood up I decided to say "Thank You" to the seemingly empty space, I felt a cool breeze blow passed me once more after I spoke, but didn't allow it to frighten me. From that day forward, the attic ghost and I coexisted in a peaceful way and I will never forget him saving me from a potentially painful fall.

It was about 3 weeks after this incident that one of my dad's friends stopped by. When he came into the house he was asking "who is in your attic? I swear I just saw a man looking down at me as I walked up"  my father, knowing what I had told him happened to me, jokingly said "Oh that's her friend, Lloyd"

I sure hope my friend Lloyd has been able to move on from this Earth in the last 20 years.]]> My parents had converted the attic into a hang out spot for us, they hung sheets up to make "walls" and kept all the normal attic storage behind them.

We spent a lot of time up there, very rarely alone though. It never felt bad up there per say, but you definitely felt like someone was in the room with you. As an adult, that feeling doesn't bother me at all, but as a teenager, I always felt a little uneasy about it.  

One day I was up there alone drawing and started feeling a slight breeze. Which was really strange because none of the windows were up. That's when I looked over and saw one of the hanging sheets move as though someone had just walked under it. I panicked and jumped up to run down the stairs, I was moving so fast I tripped and started to fall forward right at the top of the stairs, when suddenly, somehow, someone grabbed me and pulled me upright. It felt like a literal hand around my wrist, but how? It shocked me to my core. My wrist felt strange, almost numb. I ended up just sitting there for a long while just trying to grasp what I had just experienced and finally decided that whatever I had witnessed prior to the almost fall meant no harm.

As I stood up I decided to say "Thank You" to the seemingly empty space, I felt a cool breeze blow passed me once more after I spoke, but didn't allow it to frighten me. From that day forward, the attic ghost and I coexisted in a peaceful way and I will never forget him saving me from a potentially painful fall.

It was about 3 weeks after this incident that one of my dad's friends stopped by. When he came into the house he was asking "who is in your attic? I swear I just saw a man looking down at me as I walked up"  my father, knowing what I had told him happened to me, jokingly said "Oh that's her friend, Lloyd"

I sure hope my friend Lloyd has been able to move on from this Earth in the last 20 years.]]> <![CDATA[The house in Hager Park]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-house-in-Hager-Park Mon, 16 Jul 2018 02:30:14 +0000 Manda]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-house-in-Hager-Park   There are 3 giant bedrooms, one of which had a narrow stairwell that lead down into the kitchen.
    When I turned 12, my sister and I swapped rooms and I ended up in the one with the stairwell.
   After a few nights of settling in I started to notice little things not being quite right. The lights would flicker or just turn themselves on and off, my radio would fade in and out to static frequently, when I'd wake up in the morning pictures would be off the wall and laying across the room. My cat was always staring down the stairs like he was watching someone.
     After about a month i started hearing quiet muffled whispers from the stairwell. I thought maybe my parents were in the kitchen and went down to see what was going on, when I opened the door, nobody was there, lights were still off, no indication of anyone having recently being in that room. That's when I felt the chill go up my spine, and what I can only describe as a cold breeze blow passed me. I ran back up into my bed as fast as my legs could take me and tried to pretend nothing ever happened. I continued to hear the whispers every few nights, but I learned to tune them out and eventually didn't even notice them anymore.
   Fast forward to the night after my 13th birthday. I was laying in bed doing some reading, when music suddenly started blasting from the radio, full volume. As I jumped up to turn it off, it switched over to static and I could hear what sounded almost like a low growl coming through, the room had turned ice cold, I was absolutely terrified, I closed my eyes and prayed for it to stop, and it did. Radio switched off, temperature went back to normal and I could relax.
   That same night as I was on the verge of falling asleep, I heard my dad walking up the stairs, I sat up to see what he needed and realized it wasn't him, it was a huge, slow moving black mass and it was headed straight for my bed, making what i can only describe as a gurgling sound. The room had become so cold again that I could see my breath, I had chills take over my entire body and I couldn't even move to turn on the light, it was like someone was holding me down. I could do nothing but stare at this thing that was getting closer and closer to me, it was moving in almost a fluid motion, like it was made of water. As it got closer I noticed loud whispering sounds were surrounding me, like someone was desperately trying to tell me something, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. It felt as though time were standing still as I tried to get a grip on reality. Finally after what felt like an hour I got ahold of myself and was able to flip my light on and yell for someone. As I called out, the room was returning to normal and by the time my sister came in the room it was gone.  But what she said to me was

"did you see it too?"

That's when I knew why she was willing to offer up the "good" room to me in the year prior.

Needless to say, she and I started sharing a room, however,  we soon learned the weird things were obviously not segregated to that one room.

But those stories are for another day.]]>   There are 3 giant bedrooms, one of which had a narrow stairwell that lead down into the kitchen.
    When I turned 12, my sister and I swapped rooms and I ended up in the one with the stairwell.
   After a few nights of settling in I started to notice little things not being quite right. The lights would flicker or just turn themselves on and off, my radio would fade in and out to static frequently, when I'd wake up in the morning pictures would be off the wall and laying across the room. My cat was always staring down the stairs like he was watching someone.
     After about a month i started hearing quiet muffled whispers from the stairwell. I thought maybe my parents were in the kitchen and went down to see what was going on, when I opened the door, nobody was there, lights were still off, no indication of anyone having recently being in that room. That's when I felt the chill go up my spine, and what I can only describe as a cold breeze blow passed me. I ran back up into my bed as fast as my legs could take me and tried to pretend nothing ever happened. I continued to hear the whispers every few nights, but I learned to tune them out and eventually didn't even notice them anymore.
   Fast forward to the night after my 13th birthday. I was laying in bed doing some reading, when music suddenly started blasting from the radio, full volume. As I jumped up to turn it off, it switched over to static and I could hear what sounded almost like a low growl coming through, the room had turned ice cold, I was absolutely terrified, I closed my eyes and prayed for it to stop, and it did. Radio switched off, temperature went back to normal and I could relax.
   That same night as I was on the verge of falling asleep, I heard my dad walking up the stairs, I sat up to see what he needed and realized it wasn't him, it was a huge, slow moving black mass and it was headed straight for my bed, making what i can only describe as a gurgling sound. The room had become so cold again that I could see my breath, I had chills take over my entire body and I couldn't even move to turn on the light, it was like someone was holding me down. I could do nothing but stare at this thing that was getting closer and closer to me, it was moving in almost a fluid motion, like it was made of water. As it got closer I noticed loud whispering sounds were surrounding me, like someone was desperately trying to tell me something, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. It felt as though time were standing still as I tried to get a grip on reality. Finally after what felt like an hour I got ahold of myself and was able to flip my light on and yell for someone. As I called out, the room was returning to normal and by the time my sister came in the room it was gone.  But what she said to me was

"did you see it too?"

That's when I knew why she was willing to offer up the "good" room to me in the year prior.

Needless to say, she and I started sharing a room, however,  we soon learned the weird things were obviously not segregated to that one room.

But those stories are for another day.]]> <![CDATA[Buddy in the Basement]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Buddy-in-the-Basement Thu, 05 Jul 2018 14:07:34 +0000 CamQuinn]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Buddy-in-the-Basement
I have a large family so throughout my childhood, I had to share a bedroom with one sibling or another. Until it was finally my turn to move into the basement. My brother had just gone to Navy boot camp and his room was now mine. With this move, the three remaining kids in the house all their own bedrooms so it helped relieve tensions quite a bit.

After the dance, all full of giggles and stories to share. I lead S to the basement door. When I opened it up and there was a large dark, cloaked figure in the staircase reaching for my face. I slammed the door shut, turned to her (she was pale with wide eyes) and said “Let's hang out in the living room”

Neither of us acknowledged what happened for the first hour or so until she asked me what I saw. We hadn’t had the talk yet. You know, the one you have with new people about what they believe so you know if you can tell them things like this without them thinking you’re totally nuts? So I cautiously told her what I’d seen.

She listened and then told me about some things she’d seen and experienced in her life. Apparently, I slammed the door so fast, she didn’t see what was near the stares.
This was our first experience together, but it was far from the last. It was like if we were together something was going to happen. This hooded figure became such a staple in our lives we named him Buddy.

At first, I thought it was like the cloaked figure my sister had seen a few years before. Unlike what she’d experienced, Buddy wasn’t malicious or frightening (after that initial lunge for my face anyway) he was almost a calming presence. If he wasn’t near me I could count on him to be with S. Until he just vanished a couple years later. I don’t know what he was or if we were actually safe with him around but he helped solidify our friendship, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.

Buddy was also just the beginning for me. I knew of all my sister's stories from her time in the basement bedroom but nothing would prepare me for what was to come.

Next time, I'll talk about waking up to my bed shaking so bad I thought it was an earthquake (in NH), getting stuck outside my body and the basement troll.]]>
I have a large family so throughout my childhood, I had to share a bedroom with one sibling or another. Until it was finally my turn to move into the basement. My brother had just gone to Navy boot camp and his room was now mine. With this move, the three remaining kids in the house all their own bedrooms so it helped relieve tensions quite a bit.

After the dance, all full of giggles and stories to share. I lead S to the basement door. When I opened it up and there was a large dark, cloaked figure in the staircase reaching for my face. I slammed the door shut, turned to her (she was pale with wide eyes) and said “Let's hang out in the living room”

Neither of us acknowledged what happened for the first hour or so until she asked me what I saw. We hadn’t had the talk yet. You know, the one you have with new people about what they believe so you know if you can tell them things like this without them thinking you’re totally nuts? So I cautiously told her what I’d seen.

She listened and then told me about some things she’d seen and experienced in her life. Apparently, I slammed the door so fast, she didn’t see what was near the stares.
This was our first experience together, but it was far from the last. It was like if we were together something was going to happen. This hooded figure became such a staple in our lives we named him Buddy.

At first, I thought it was like the cloaked figure my sister had seen a few years before. Unlike what she’d experienced, Buddy wasn’t malicious or frightening (after that initial lunge for my face anyway) he was almost a calming presence. If he wasn’t near me I could count on him to be with S. Until he just vanished a couple years later. I don’t know what he was or if we were actually safe with him around but he helped solidify our friendship, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.

Buddy was also just the beginning for me. I knew of all my sister's stories from her time in the basement bedroom but nothing would prepare me for what was to come.

Next time, I'll talk about waking up to my bed shaking so bad I thought it was an earthquake (in NH), getting stuck outside my body and the basement troll.]]> <![CDATA[The Ghost I grew up with.]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Ghost-I-grew-up-with Thu, 07 Jun 2018 23:00:11 +0000 Destinationsparanormal]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Ghost-I-grew-up-with  By the time I was a teenager, I figured out that speaking to others about "John" was something to avoid, except an elderly neighbor, who was the Mother of the Lady my parents bought the house from, and knew it well, told me to the story that the original owner and builder of that house, hung himself in the attic space. That would have been the late 70s and without the internet and a teenager, my search for his real name ran dry.

There was an entrance into the attic on the 2nd story, through the door that led into something of a cross between a tunnel and a closet. Interestingly, everyone(including my parents) hated even opening that door. (Christmas decorations were stored there) but only once did anyone else ever admit to experiencing "John" as I did.  There was a very drastic difference in the energy of what was in my room, and opening the door of that closet. I actually did not associate the two as the same entity, because of how different they felt.

In 1990 my Parents decided to sell the farm, to my great dismay.. They had received a very large offer from a commercial developer that planned to turn our farm  into condominiums. From the day they accepted the offer, things in our family changed. There was incredible fighting, which I suppose most would attribute to the stress of selling our home of 23 years.. It was an idyllic farmhouse and enormous red barn on 40 acres, that had been the home of endless horses, cows, goats, sheep, pigs throughout my life..  For my family to be disturbed by the reality of it being bulldozed, made sense.. Although the sale was in process, my parents were allowed to keep possession of the house for over a year, as the development company was getting permits etc. My family continued to live there for that time, while my parents were remodeling a hunting lodge and campground they had purchased in Eastern Washington.. The energy of the house changed and it felt dark, and for the first time I was constantly uncomfortable and even scared in the house.. Everyone in the house seemed depressed and "different"  In Sept of 1991 only months before we were due to give possession of the house to the dev company, my sister was involved in a very serious car accident and suffered massive brain trauma, and I honestly barely remember moving things out of the house,as my sister was in a coma, on life support, and that became the focus of our lives..
 I rented a house not far away, and as the demolishing day was closer, I was overcome with worry, "What would happen to John?"

This being 1991 there was still no internet, and not much help from the library, asking anyone that seemed receptive was the plan.. I was able to find a friend who was willy to help, and seemed to know more than me, pretty quickly.  She was fairly certain, we should just go over, into the now empty and becoming overgrown house and try to speak to John and invite him to come with us.. I still had a key to the house, as they only planned to bulldoze the property in a month, they didn't change the locks.  As we walked in, we both had an overwhelming sense of fear and dread. It felt like opening the door to that scary closet to the attic. My room, where I assumed we would find John, was at the top of a fairly steep,  and winding staircase.  The moment we opened the door to that stairway, the feeling of darkness and very very negative, okay, terrifying energy was overwhelming.  I remember, looking at Becca and saying," I think he is real mad he got left behind", and we started up the stairs..
At the top of the stairs, there was a large landing and two bedrooms and a bathroom... The door to my room was directly in front of us and closed, the door to my sister's room was to the left and open... We stood in the middle of the landing and could see, the door to that attic room was open also and there was an old vacuum laying in the middle of the room... This was around a corner almost , we were leaning a bit to see in the room, without actually going in. Then there was a horrible moan, almost like growling wind, and it was suddenly REALLY cold, we looked at each other, and in a split second were running back down the stairs. About halfway down the stairs, that vacuum came flying past us, as if it had been thrown from the top of the stairs. It JUST missed my head and smashed with force on the door jam of the doorway at the bottom of the stairs.. We ran through the house and to her car and left a lot faster then we drove in.. I still do not know what happened to John, and if that was him,or if  the attic closet entity was something else and was"out of the closet".. I felt horrible and to this day, 27 years later, I wish I knew...]]>  By the time I was a teenager, I figured out that speaking to others about "John" was something to avoid, except an elderly neighbor, who was the Mother of the Lady my parents bought the house from, and knew it well, told me to the story that the original owner and builder of that house, hung himself in the attic space. That would have been the late 70s and without the internet and a teenager, my search for his real name ran dry.

There was an entrance into the attic on the 2nd story, through the door that led into something of a cross between a tunnel and a closet. Interestingly, everyone(including my parents) hated even opening that door. (Christmas decorations were stored there) but only once did anyone else ever admit to experiencing "John" as I did.  There was a very drastic difference in the energy of what was in my room, and opening the door of that closet. I actually did not associate the two as the same entity, because of how different they felt.

In 1990 my Parents decided to sell the farm, to my great dismay.. They had received a very large offer from a commercial developer that planned to turn our farm  into condominiums. From the day they accepted the offer, things in our family changed. There was incredible fighting, which I suppose most would attribute to the stress of selling our home of 23 years.. It was an idyllic farmhouse and enormous red barn on 40 acres, that had been the home of endless horses, cows, goats, sheep, pigs throughout my life..  For my family to be disturbed by the reality of it being bulldozed, made sense.. Although the sale was in process, my parents were allowed to keep possession of the house for over a year, as the development company was getting permits etc. My family continued to live there for that time, while my parents were remodeling a hunting lodge and campground they had purchased in Eastern Washington.. The energy of the house changed and it felt dark, and for the first time I was constantly uncomfortable and even scared in the house.. Everyone in the house seemed depressed and "different"  In Sept of 1991 only months before we were due to give possession of the house to the dev company, my sister was involved in a very serious car accident and suffered massive brain trauma, and I honestly barely remember moving things out of the house,as my sister was in a coma, on life support, and that became the focus of our lives..
 I rented a house not far away, and as the demolishing day was closer, I was overcome with worry, "What would happen to John?"

This being 1991 there was still no internet, and not much help from the library, asking anyone that seemed receptive was the plan.. I was able to find a friend who was willy to help, and seemed to know more than me, pretty quickly.  She was fairly certain, we should just go over, into the now empty and becoming overgrown house and try to speak to John and invite him to come with us.. I still had a key to the house, as they only planned to bulldoze the property in a month, they didn't change the locks.  As we walked in, we both had an overwhelming sense of fear and dread. It felt like opening the door to that scary closet to the attic. My room, where I assumed we would find John, was at the top of a fairly steep,  and winding staircase.  The moment we opened the door to that stairway, the feeling of darkness and very very negative, okay, terrifying energy was overwhelming.  I remember, looking at Becca and saying," I think he is real mad he got left behind", and we started up the stairs..
At the top of the stairs, there was a large landing and two bedrooms and a bathroom... The door to my room was directly in front of us and closed, the door to my sister's room was to the left and open... We stood in the middle of the landing and could see, the door to that attic room was open also and there was an old vacuum laying in the middle of the room... This was around a corner almost , we were leaning a bit to see in the room, without actually going in. Then there was a horrible moan, almost like growling wind, and it was suddenly REALLY cold, we looked at each other, and in a split second were running back down the stairs. About halfway down the stairs, that vacuum came flying past us, as if it had been thrown from the top of the stairs. It JUST missed my head and smashed with force on the door jam of the doorway at the bottom of the stairs.. We ran through the house and to her car and left a lot faster then we drove in.. I still do not know what happened to John, and if that was him,or if  the attic closet entity was something else and was"out of the closet".. I felt horrible and to this day, 27 years later, I wish I knew...]]> <![CDATA[Tidy ghost]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Tidy-ghost Thu, 07 Jun 2018 19:57:07 +0000 Countess]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Tidy-ghost But what happened there one summers afternoon in the early eighties was far from ordinary!
My cousin, brother and I were all still kids, with no interest in anything but enjoying the long holidays, playing outside and perhaps a spot of den building. Unfortunately for us on this particular day my mother had arranged to visit a neighbor and told us in no uncertain terms we were to stay in the house, in my bedroom and behave ourselves until her return. With strict instructions to remain indoors and not to answer the door to anyone, we were left to our own devices.

Books were read, board games were played and drawing were scribbled on sheets of paper, but minutes last for so much longer when you are young and we soon became bored with our play and each other! All of us became so disinterested with the activities on offer we began to rummage around in the wardrobe looking for a new venture to amuse ourselves, but each toy we unearthed was cast aside and deposited on the bed as nothing seemed as exciting as the glorious weather outside and the sounds of our friends having fun. A small altercation began between my cousin and brother and I as the eldest felt it was my duty to step in and sort them out. However, this only exacerbated the disagreement and we all became embroiled in a full-scale dispute.
It was then we heard the voice, a low guttural male voice, seemingly calling out to us and trying to be heard over all of the commotions. Instantly, we all froze and warily glanced around at each other. We didn't speak, words were unnecessary to convey our feelings to each other, we were all petrified! As clear as day we then heard the voice rasp "get out . . .get out!"

Clinging onto each other as if our lives depended upon it we all clasped hands and made a dash for the bedroom door, almost tripping over ourselves we hastily ran down the staircase towards the front door and salvation! Remembering we were forbidden to leave the house we paused in the hallway wondering what to do for the best we again heard the evil utterance, this time it appeared much more hostile and malicious calling us 'gits' 'swines' and 'b*stards'. No longer caring about my mother's warning we fled the house, slamming the door behind us and not daring to look back, we raced to the house she was visiting.

After tearfully blurting out our story to her and hoping for some comfort we were upset to be severely reprimanded for disobedience and horrified to be marched back home by a very angry parent indeed. Once back inside the house, we pleaded not to be made to go back upstairs and as mum had calmed down somewhat she agreed to accompany us to the bedroom and see what all the hysterics had been about.
Although the atmosphere now felt lighter there was still a foreboding air about the place, but the biggest fright was yet to come. . .  as we tentatively pushed open the bedroom door we immediately noticed all of the books, games, and toys we had left strewn around the room were gone! On closer inspection, we realized they'd been neatly tidied away by unseen hands and stacked carefully and tidily back in the wardrobe!!
Although our mother was seemingly unconvinced of the truth of our story she asked us not to tell our father what we had allegedly experienced. I subsequently discovered she had born witness to anomalous phenomena in that house many times herself . . . but that dear reader is another story for another night. Until then . . .


]]> But what happened there one summers afternoon in the early eighties was far from ordinary!
My cousin, brother and I were all still kids, with no interest in anything but enjoying the long holidays, playing outside and perhaps a spot of den building. Unfortunately for us on this particular day my mother had arranged to visit a neighbor and told us in no uncertain terms we were to stay in the house, in my bedroom and behave ourselves until her return. With strict instructions to remain indoors and not to answer the door to anyone, we were left to our own devices.

Books were read, board games were played and drawing were scribbled on sheets of paper, but minutes last for so much longer when you are young and we soon became bored with our play and each other! All of us became so disinterested with the activities on offer we began to rummage around in the wardrobe looking for a new venture to amuse ourselves, but each toy we unearthed was cast aside and deposited on the bed as nothing seemed as exciting as the glorious weather outside and the sounds of our friends having fun. A small altercation began between my cousin and brother and I as the eldest felt it was my duty to step in and sort them out. However, this only exacerbated the disagreement and we all became embroiled in a full-scale dispute.
It was then we heard the voice, a low guttural male voice, seemingly calling out to us and trying to be heard over all of the commotions. Instantly, we all froze and warily glanced around at each other. We didn't speak, words were unnecessary to convey our feelings to each other, we were all petrified! As clear as day we then heard the voice rasp "get out . . .get out!"

Clinging onto each other as if our lives depended upon it we all clasped hands and made a dash for the bedroom door, almost tripping over ourselves we hastily ran down the staircase towards the front door and salvation! Remembering we were forbidden to leave the house we paused in the hallway wondering what to do for the best we again heard the evil utterance, this time it appeared much more hostile and malicious calling us 'gits' 'swines' and 'b*stards'. No longer caring about my mother's warning we fled the house, slamming the door behind us and not daring to look back, we raced to the house she was visiting.

After tearfully blurting out our story to her and hoping for some comfort we were upset to be severely reprimanded for disobedience and horrified to be marched back home by a very angry parent indeed. Once back inside the house, we pleaded not to be made to go back upstairs and as mum had calmed down somewhat she agreed to accompany us to the bedroom and see what all the hysterics had been about.
Although the atmosphere now felt lighter there was still a foreboding air about the place, but the biggest fright was yet to come. . .  as we tentatively pushed open the bedroom door we immediately noticed all of the books, games, and toys we had left strewn around the room were gone! On closer inspection, we realized they'd been neatly tidied away by unseen hands and stacked carefully and tidily back in the wardrobe!!
Although our mother was seemingly unconvinced of the truth of our story she asked us not to tell our father what we had allegedly experienced. I subsequently discovered she had born witness to anomalous phenomena in that house many times herself . . . but that dear reader is another story for another night. Until then . . .


]]> <![CDATA[A Flying Lesson...]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-A-Flying-Lesson Thu, 07 Jun 2018 18:15:04 +0000 WyspersInTheDark]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-A-Flying-Lesson
    That being said, let's get on with it.


This starts in my post divorce life.

   During my divorce in 2001, a friend of mine, knowing that I was the newly single mom and needing to get my feet under me, offered to let me store some of my belongings in an empty home that had belonged to her grandparents (by then deceased) on her family's property out near Schulenburg, Texas, in order to save me from having to pay for storage.

   Over the years, I went out there several times, always by myself, as I sold off unused things I had stored and retrieved them to deliver to their new owners. Never a problem. Never an uneasy feeling.


A little background on me:

   I don't know what to describe myself as. I do know that I have never had to go looking for the paranormal as it finds me often enough. I do know it came from my maternal grandmother and that I discovered this fact when my grandmother and I had a shared experience shortly after the death of my grandfather when I was 9 years old. I heard him call her name from the bedroom in the back of the house, saying "Come here! I need you!". She and I both started to get up to go check on him and got almost to the hallway before recalling we had laid him to rest two days before.

   I can tell you that I mostly pick up on feelings and emotions. Less often I hear and see spirits or echos of things. However, up until the encounter that is the subject of this email, all of my experiences had been at least benign, if not positive, so I never found any reason to fear this extra...ability, I apparently have.


Moving on:

   In 2004, I moved to North Texas to the DFW area. Two years later, I decided to retrieve the few boxes I still had stored down in Schulenburg. My friend's family was in the process of trying to sell the property anyway and I was back on my feet and had room to store the few remaining boxes.

   So, one bright day, after spending the previous night with a friend in Houston, I headed out to Schulenburg to retrieve my stored boxes and head back home to Athens, Tx. I arrived at the property around 10am, backed up to the front steps and proceeded inside to begin loading my boxes.

   I had loaded around 10 or 11 boxes into the bed of my truck and went back in to get another. As I entered the living room, where the boxes were, it felt like the atmosphere had changed. It felt a bit darker and was just a heavier, uneasy feeling. I just chalked it up to being tired as my friend and I had stayed up late the previous night, catching up and visiting. I walked across the living room, picked up a box, turned, began walking back across the room and got just over halfway across when it was like I walked into a wall of absolute dread. I don't know how else to explain it. I just froze...the feeling was so overwhelming it kind of took my breath away and stopped me in my tracks.

   I had almost pulled myself together to get moving again when something slammed the box I was still carrying straight to the floor as though someone had slammed their hands down right on the top of it with both hands, ripping it from my hands. It was enough force and I was so startled that it threw me off balance and I went staggering back a few steps. I can recall thinking (my brain screaming at me really...) that if I lost my feet I was dead. I had just gotten my balance and my feet back under me when it felt as though something slammed into my left thigh, just above the knee. I didn't even really have time to process this when I was picked up and thrown into the wall behind me. Not pushed. Not shoved. Not backed. Nothing to trip on and tripping wouldn't even begin to explain my going completely airborne.

   I vaguely remember hitting the wall, mostly with the right side of my back. I hit it hard enough to break the sheetrock as I ended up picking bits of it out of my hair and off my clothes later. I then crashed to the floor, losing my feet. I hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me because I can recall sitting there on the floor, up against the wall, my brain screaming at me to run and being completely unable to even move.

   As I sat there, unable to move, I felt the most indescribably awful feeling start coming down over me. The only way I can describe it is it was as if someone had opened up the top of my head and poured a cold oil made of pure despair, dread, hopelessness and every other negative feeling straight onto my brain and it was slowly running, like dripping paint, down into the rest of my body. I could almost physically feel it make it's way down from my head, to my neck, my chest. It was paralyzing and suffocating. I struggled, trying to get up, move, run, anything....but felt myself pinned by what felt like the end of a burning stick on my abdomen. At this point, I was very literally convinced that I was going to die. Right then, right there, that day.

   The one and only thing I could think of to do at that point was to call out to St. Michael. I'm surprised that even occurred to me as I'm not a particularly Christian person. I don't even know how the thought came to me. But, I did. I can't even recall exactly what I said except that I was begging for help.

   I don't know what happened other than I'd guess around 20-30 seconds later, I felt what I'd describe as a huge release. The awful, oozing feeling of darkness left me. I no longer felt pinned down and paralyzed.

   I managed to get to my feet and run out of there. I jumped into my truck and tore out of there. I had four boxes left in the bed of my truck when I finally stopped many miles later as I had not closed my tailgate and had, in an uncharacteristic act of recklessness born of blind terror, slung most of them out driving like a maniac. I never went back to look for them or to retrieve the few boxes I had left behind, still in the house.


   The final tally of my injuries was:

-  Multiple large areas of bruising. My entire left thigh was black-blue with bruising all the way around. The entire right side of my back was one big bruise. Not as dark as my thigh but a definite purple-blue. Lighter bruising on my right hip, ankle and shoulder. My right forearm and the pinky side of my right hand were both bruised dark purple.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mt65zES...sp=sharing

-  My right pinky finger was broken.

-  There was skin ripped off the upper palm and the fingers of my right hand. I assume from the box being slammed out of my hands.

-  A large gash in my left thigh just above the knee approximately 4.5 inches long and around 1/2 an inch wide. I still have the scar from this today.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ZtD5aP3...sp=sharing

-  A light scar on my abdomen, approximately the size of my thumb, where I was burned that day from whatever was pinning me down. It blistered, popped, scabbed over and eventually healed.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/18Rt3owb...sp=sharing

-  A mild concussion and big knot on the back, right side of my head.

-  Several cracked ribs I suspect, given how much it hurt to breathe and sleep for the next several weeks.

-  Several fractured vertebrae

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NOVNitj...sp=sharing



   Twelve years and this is the first I have ever spoken about it. I told everyone I had fallen off a horse, wore long pants and long sleeved shirts to cover what I could. I never even sought medical treatment until months later when my back was still hurting me. Seriously, what would I have told them? Probably nothing that wouldn't having them locking me up in a psych ward or calling the police and social services. I could fool friends and co-workers. I doubt very seriously if I could have fooled physicians.

   I've enclosed a diagram of the injuries. It's one thing to describe it. Quite another to actually see a visual representation of the fuller horror of it all. I have also enclosed a diagram of the living room (see below).

   Fireplace in upper right corner, french doors on right wall to back yard, boxes by the fireplace, front door lower left. The green line is my path from picking up the box to where I stopped and it was slammed out of my hands (leftmost X). Center X is where I stumbled back to, trying to keep my feet and was thrown from. Topmost X is where I hit the wall and ended up on the floor sitting against it. Not to scale and a bit crude but it gives you an idea.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SqlnqiU...sp=sharing


   So I have spent twelve years not only terrified that something similar could happen again, but also very angry at myself for a myriad of reasons.

   First, for being so naive. For 36 years, this thing that I have had never resulted in anything but benign or even positive encounters....until that day in 2006. I was so naive to not realize that the same thing that allows me to have those harmless encounters could make me vulnerable to the very kind of encounter that day. I should have known, I should have been more aware and I should NOT have been so dismissive of that feeling that things had suddenly changed.

   Second, for feeling so ungrateful for this thing that I have. I can't even make myself call it a "gift", yet I hear people say that all the time. Talking about such and such psychic's "gift"...and here I sit with the attitude that I'd give it away in a hot second if I could. Then I end up feeling guilty because I see all of these people running around and helping others with theirs and I end up thinking that I'm just an ungrateful brat for not seeing it as a gift and using it to help others, for not learning to control it and make good of it. Maybe that is what I'm supposed to do and I'm just wasting it....now too terrified to even try to do such a thing. Does that make sense?

   I was watching my friend's teen daughter 2 days ago and let her use my laptop to watch Netflix. I was in the other room reading while she was watching episodes of Ghost Adventures. Now, I know who Zak is and I have a lot of respect for what he does. I've seen some interviews he has given....but I cannot watch Ghost Adventures. I think you understand why, I hope. However, I happened to hear a line...something Zak said....and I ran in the other room and made her backtrack it to that line. I don't even know what episode it was. Zak was talking with a woman and she said something about his "gift" and I will never forget his reply..."It's not necessarily a gift...". I don't know exactly how he meant it...but I know how I took it. To hear someone say, out loud, what I have been feeling for the past twelve years was a revelation moment for me. It never occurred to me that someone else might feel the same way...whether he meant it that way or not. I'm not going to tell you it magically cured my guilt over feeling that way about it, but it definitely made me feel less alone in my thinking. It was such a relief, it literally made me cry and that is not something I easily admit to.

   Now that I have taken so much of your time (and bless you if you have made it this far), let's see if I can actually manage to send this this time rather than erasing it all again.

   Thanks for reading/listening and letting me unburden myself. It has been quite cathartic.


WyspersInTheDark]]>
    That being said, let's get on with it.


This starts in my post divorce life.

   During my divorce in 2001, a friend of mine, knowing that I was the newly single mom and needing to get my feet under me, offered to let me store some of my belongings in an empty home that had belonged to her grandparents (by then deceased) on her family's property out near Schulenburg, Texas, in order to save me from having to pay for storage.

   Over the years, I went out there several times, always by myself, as I sold off unused things I had stored and retrieved them to deliver to their new owners. Never a problem. Never an uneasy feeling.


A little background on me:

   I don't know what to describe myself as. I do know that I have never had to go looking for the paranormal as it finds me often enough. I do know it came from my maternal grandmother and that I discovered this fact when my grandmother and I had a shared experience shortly after the death of my grandfather when I was 9 years old. I heard him call her name from the bedroom in the back of the house, saying "Come here! I need you!". She and I both started to get up to go check on him and got almost to the hallway before recalling we had laid him to rest two days before.

   I can tell you that I mostly pick up on feelings and emotions. Less often I hear and see spirits or echos of things. However, up until the encounter that is the subject of this email, all of my experiences had been at least benign, if not positive, so I never found any reason to fear this extra...ability, I apparently have.


Moving on:

   In 2004, I moved to North Texas to the DFW area. Two years later, I decided to retrieve the few boxes I still had stored down in Schulenburg. My friend's family was in the process of trying to sell the property anyway and I was back on my feet and had room to store the few remaining boxes.

   So, one bright day, after spending the previous night with a friend in Houston, I headed out to Schulenburg to retrieve my stored boxes and head back home to Athens, Tx. I arrived at the property around 10am, backed up to the front steps and proceeded inside to begin loading my boxes.

   I had loaded around 10 or 11 boxes into the bed of my truck and went back in to get another. As I entered the living room, where the boxes were, it felt like the atmosphere had changed. It felt a bit darker and was just a heavier, uneasy feeling. I just chalked it up to being tired as my friend and I had stayed up late the previous night, catching up and visiting. I walked across the living room, picked up a box, turned, began walking back across the room and got just over halfway across when it was like I walked into a wall of absolute dread. I don't know how else to explain it. I just froze...the feeling was so overwhelming it kind of took my breath away and stopped me in my tracks.

   I had almost pulled myself together to get moving again when something slammed the box I was still carrying straight to the floor as though someone had slammed their hands down right on the top of it with both hands, ripping it from my hands. It was enough force and I was so startled that it threw me off balance and I went staggering back a few steps. I can recall thinking (my brain screaming at me really...) that if I lost my feet I was dead. I had just gotten my balance and my feet back under me when it felt as though something slammed into my left thigh, just above the knee. I didn't even really have time to process this when I was picked up and thrown into the wall behind me. Not pushed. Not shoved. Not backed. Nothing to trip on and tripping wouldn't even begin to explain my going completely airborne.

   I vaguely remember hitting the wall, mostly with the right side of my back. I hit it hard enough to break the sheetrock as I ended up picking bits of it out of my hair and off my clothes later. I then crashed to the floor, losing my feet. I hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me because I can recall sitting there on the floor, up against the wall, my brain screaming at me to run and being completely unable to even move.

   As I sat there, unable to move, I felt the most indescribably awful feeling start coming down over me. The only way I can describe it is it was as if someone had opened up the top of my head and poured a cold oil made of pure despair, dread, hopelessness and every other negative feeling straight onto my brain and it was slowly running, like dripping paint, down into the rest of my body. I could almost physically feel it make it's way down from my head, to my neck, my chest. It was paralyzing and suffocating. I struggled, trying to get up, move, run, anything....but felt myself pinned by what felt like the end of a burning stick on my abdomen. At this point, I was very literally convinced that I was going to die. Right then, right there, that day.

   The one and only thing I could think of to do at that point was to call out to St. Michael. I'm surprised that even occurred to me as I'm not a particularly Christian person. I don't even know how the thought came to me. But, I did. I can't even recall exactly what I said except that I was begging for help.

   I don't know what happened other than I'd guess around 20-30 seconds later, I felt what I'd describe as a huge release. The awful, oozing feeling of darkness left me. I no longer felt pinned down and paralyzed.

   I managed to get to my feet and run out of there. I jumped into my truck and tore out of there. I had four boxes left in the bed of my truck when I finally stopped many miles later as I had not closed my tailgate and had, in an uncharacteristic act of recklessness born of blind terror, slung most of them out driving like a maniac. I never went back to look for them or to retrieve the few boxes I had left behind, still in the house.


   The final tally of my injuries was:

-  Multiple large areas of bruising. My entire left thigh was black-blue with bruising all the way around. The entire right side of my back was one big bruise. Not as dark as my thigh but a definite purple-blue. Lighter bruising on my right hip, ankle and shoulder. My right forearm and the pinky side of my right hand were both bruised dark purple.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mt65zES...sp=sharing

-  My right pinky finger was broken.

-  There was skin ripped off the upper palm and the fingers of my right hand. I assume from the box being slammed out of my hands.

-  A large gash in my left thigh just above the knee approximately 4.5 inches long and around 1/2 an inch wide. I still have the scar from this today.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ZtD5aP3...sp=sharing

-  A light scar on my abdomen, approximately the size of my thumb, where I was burned that day from whatever was pinning me down. It blistered, popped, scabbed over and eventually healed.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/18Rt3owb...sp=sharing

-  A mild concussion and big knot on the back, right side of my head.

-  Several cracked ribs I suspect, given how much it hurt to breathe and sleep for the next several weeks.

-  Several fractured vertebrae

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NOVNitj...sp=sharing



   Twelve years and this is the first I have ever spoken about it. I told everyone I had fallen off a horse, wore long pants and long sleeved shirts to cover what I could. I never even sought medical treatment until months later when my back was still hurting me. Seriously, what would I have told them? Probably nothing that wouldn't having them locking me up in a psych ward or calling the police and social services. I could fool friends and co-workers. I doubt very seriously if I could have fooled physicians.

   I've enclosed a diagram of the injuries. It's one thing to describe it. Quite another to actually see a visual representation of the fuller horror of it all. I have also enclosed a diagram of the living room (see below).

   Fireplace in upper right corner, french doors on right wall to back yard, boxes by the fireplace, front door lower left. The green line is my path from picking up the box to where I stopped and it was slammed out of my hands (leftmost X). Center X is where I stumbled back to, trying to keep my feet and was thrown from. Topmost X is where I hit the wall and ended up on the floor sitting against it. Not to scale and a bit crude but it gives you an idea.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SqlnqiU...sp=sharing


   So I have spent twelve years not only terrified that something similar could happen again, but also very angry at myself for a myriad of reasons.

   First, for being so naive. For 36 years, this thing that I have had never resulted in anything but benign or even positive encounters....until that day in 2006. I was so naive to not realize that the same thing that allows me to have those harmless encounters could make me vulnerable to the very kind of encounter that day. I should have known, I should have been more aware and I should NOT have been so dismissive of that feeling that things had suddenly changed.

   Second, for feeling so ungrateful for this thing that I have. I can't even make myself call it a "gift", yet I hear people say that all the time. Talking about such and such psychic's "gift"...and here I sit with the attitude that I'd give it away in a hot second if I could. Then I end up feeling guilty because I see all of these people running around and helping others with theirs and I end up thinking that I'm just an ungrateful brat for not seeing it as a gift and using it to help others, for not learning to control it and make good of it. Maybe that is what I'm supposed to do and I'm just wasting it....now too terrified to even try to do such a thing. Does that make sense?

   I was watching my friend's teen daughter 2 days ago and let her use my laptop to watch Netflix. I was in the other room reading while she was watching episodes of Ghost Adventures. Now, I know who Zak is and I have a lot of respect for what he does. I've seen some interviews he has given....but I cannot watch Ghost Adventures. I think you understand why, I hope. However, I happened to hear a line...something Zak said....and I ran in the other room and made her backtrack it to that line. I don't even know what episode it was. Zak was talking with a woman and she said something about his "gift" and I will never forget his reply..."It's not necessarily a gift...". I don't know exactly how he meant it...but I know how I took it. To hear someone say, out loud, what I have been feeling for the past twelve years was a revelation moment for me. It never occurred to me that someone else might feel the same way...whether he meant it that way or not. I'm not going to tell you it magically cured my guilt over feeling that way about it, but it definitely made me feel less alone in my thinking. It was such a relief, it literally made me cry and that is not something I easily admit to.

   Now that I have taken so much of your time (and bless you if you have made it this far), let's see if I can actually manage to send this this time rather than erasing it all again.

   Thanks for reading/listening and letting me unburden myself. It has been quite cathartic.


WyspersInTheDark]]> <![CDATA[Daytime activity]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Daytime-activity Sun, 08 Apr 2018 20:49:07 +0000 BeccaT13]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Daytime-activity
So the next morning I am alone in the house and taking advantage by playing on the Sega Saturn, but I had the sound volume low as the music wasn't that good. About 10.30am I heard a noise and paused my game, it sounded like someone coming into the house and going upstairs, but doing so more quietly than usual, the footsteps went down the landing and into the bedroom above where I was sitting, and I heard the bed springs as though someone had just laid down on the bed. Naturally I assumed it was my housemate coming home and creeping around so he didn't wake me up. I was so convinced that I filled the kettle and got our mugs ready so I could make us some coffee when he came back downstairs.

As there was no more sounds of movement, I just assumed he'd had a very late night and wanted to catch up on his sleep. I went back to quietly playing my game and thought no more about it until mid afternoon, when I heard the front door open and my housemate really came home. He went straight to the kitchen to make a coffee and was confused to find everything ready to make it, I then told him about what had happened earlier. He then reminded me that when I moved in I was told about the ghost of an old lady that haunted his room, but I just thought they were pulling my leg and forgot all about it.

In the year I lived there that was the only experience I had and there was never anything creepy or strange about the place.]]>
So the next morning I am alone in the house and taking advantage by playing on the Sega Saturn, but I had the sound volume low as the music wasn't that good. About 10.30am I heard a noise and paused my game, it sounded like someone coming into the house and going upstairs, but doing so more quietly than usual, the footsteps went down the landing and into the bedroom above where I was sitting, and I heard the bed springs as though someone had just laid down on the bed. Naturally I assumed it was my housemate coming home and creeping around so he didn't wake me up. I was so convinced that I filled the kettle and got our mugs ready so I could make us some coffee when he came back downstairs.

As there was no more sounds of movement, I just assumed he'd had a very late night and wanted to catch up on his sleep. I went back to quietly playing my game and thought no more about it until mid afternoon, when I heard the front door open and my housemate really came home. He went straight to the kitchen to make a coffee and was confused to find everything ready to make it, I then told him about what had happened earlier. He then reminded me that when I moved in I was told about the ghost of an old lady that haunted his room, but I just thought they were pulling my leg and forgot all about it.

In the year I lived there that was the only experience I had and there was never anything creepy or strange about the place.]]>