https://myghoststory.com/ Mon, 28 Sep 2026 03:00:09 +0000 MyBB https://myghoststory.com/submission-night-time Fri, 12 Jan 2024 20:24:48 +0000 Lonewolf]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-night-time https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Bed-Man Mon, 09 Oct 2023 00:50:48 +0000 LifeLong_Death]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Bed-Man

One time i was home alone and it was around 12;00 maybe 12:30 when i heard scratching come from my room i was so scared so I grabbed my sisters toy and went to see what it was when i opened the do to my room i say something run across the room under my sisters bed i freaked out and turned on the light and went to see if it was there when i got to her bed and on the ground right when i looked under the light turned off and eyes looked back at mine and i couldn't move and that night my mom came home to see me with a broken arm.          (btw I was home alone that night and I still have scar's from this)]]>

One time i was home alone and it was around 12;00 maybe 12:30 when i heard scratching come from my room i was so scared so I grabbed my sisters toy and went to see what it was when i opened the do to my room i say something run across the room under my sisters bed i freaked out and turned on the light and went to see if it was there when i got to her bed and on the ground right when i looked under the light turned off and eyes looked back at mine and i couldn't move and that night my mom came home to see me with a broken arm.          (btw I was home alone that night and I still have scar's from this)]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Confusing-my-doppelganger Tue, 24 May 2022 17:35:10 +0000 childsofdark]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Confusing-my-doppelganger his is something that has been happening for 5 years now ad i dont know how to get it to go away i have tried everything its still not going away if you could give me some advice thank you. my doppelganger i cant belive i telling this but a few days ago i was sleeping and my parents come into my room very confused and they start asking me wait you just left for your grandparents home i was confused becuase i was sleeping all day and they told me that i went to go walk to my grandparents home and they saw me on the camera walking there i was confused so i looked at the camera and sure enough it me walking. this is all i will say about my doppelganger its brings to much bad energy into my life even writing this i feel darkness and evil around me]]> his is something that has been happening for 5 years now ad i dont know how to get it to go away i have tried everything its still not going away if you could give me some advice thank you. my doppelganger i cant belive i telling this but a few days ago i was sleeping and my parents come into my room very confused and they start asking me wait you just left for your grandparents home i was confused becuase i was sleeping all day and they told me that i went to go walk to my grandparents home and they saw me on the camera walking there i was confused so i looked at the camera and sure enough it me walking. this is all i will say about my doppelganger its brings to much bad energy into my life even writing this i feel darkness and evil around me]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Button-Eyed-Man Sun, 22 May 2022 18:41:52 +0000 mychemicalromance]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-The-Button-Eyed-Man This happened when I was around five. One night when I was trying to go to bed I saw this man, I remember him as the button-eyed man since I was so little and I couldn't really remember what I actually saw, but what I do remember is that the man said, "Have you seen my slippers?" I was confused and didn't know what was going on, but as a kid, I didn't know any better so I replied with, "No, I haven't" I was still very sleepy but once it got through my head that was what I was seeing wasn't normal, I let out a blood-curdling scream, running to my parent's room and they were startled awake."There's a monster, there's a monster in my room!" I frantically yelled. And, of course, they didn't believe me. I stayed with them in bed the whole night, but again, something caught my eye. I saw him. I wasn't scared because as a kid I thought that since my mom and dad were there with me, the "monster" couldn't hurt me. That was the last time I saw the button-eyed man. As I got older I told myself it was just my imagination there was no button-eyed man going to hurt me. Fast forward to today, I'm 14 now and I asked my grandparents if they remembered the "button-eyed man". What they said still haunts me to this day. What I saw was the ghost of my mom's friend's late grandpa who used to leave his slippers on my bed.]]> This happened when I was around five. One night when I was trying to go to bed I saw this man, I remember him as the button-eyed man since I was so little and I couldn't really remember what I actually saw, but what I do remember is that the man said, "Have you seen my slippers?" I was confused and didn't know what was going on, but as a kid, I didn't know any better so I replied with, "No, I haven't" I was still very sleepy but once it got through my head that was what I was seeing wasn't normal, I let out a blood-curdling scream, running to my parent's room and they were startled awake."There's a monster, there's a monster in my room!" I frantically yelled. And, of course, they didn't believe me. I stayed with them in bed the whole night, but again, something caught my eye. I saw him. I wasn't scared because as a kid I thought that since my mom and dad were there with me, the "monster" couldn't hurt me. That was the last time I saw the button-eyed man. As I got older I told myself it was just my imagination there was no button-eyed man going to hurt me. Fast forward to today, I'm 14 now and I asked my grandparents if they remembered the "button-eyed man". What they said still haunts me to this day. What I saw was the ghost of my mom's friend's late grandpa who used to leave his slippers on my bed.]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-scared-sh-tless Thu, 24 Jun 2021 14:26:53 +0000 youngmeg]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-scared-sh-tless https://myghoststory.com/submission-Afternoon-Apparition Sun, 22 Jul 2018 21:47:39 +0000 Countess]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Afternoon-Apparition
Rising high above the ordinary row of terraced houses the seemingly perpendicular hill had been tempting us all summer, not because it was anything special, there was nothing grand or remarkable about it at all, the appeal came from the fact we were forbidden to play there and to two small children, this was reason enough! We had marveled at the bigger boys who had bravely stolen wire cutters from the nearby allotments and watched jealously as almost every afternoon they disappeared together through the hole they had snipped into the fence. So this is how we found ourselves scratched, stung and sore, disobediently trespassing on an old earthwork owned by British Rail.

 Upon reaching the brow of the mound we stopped to catch our breath and consider our surroundings. Unimpressed by what we discovered there, we nonchalantly wandered down a cinder path, stopping periodically to gather small posies of clover, daisies and buttercups until boredom got the better of us.

We pondered the appeal of the place and thought it was perhaps time to head home when we spied a great, grey cloud on the horizon, it came into view quite unexpectedly and appeared to be heading towards the pair of us at an alarming rate. We exchanged worried glances, searching each other’s faces in the hope of finding an explanation there for the strange anomaly before us. Suddenly, we became aware of a deep rumbling sound accompanied by a shrill whistle then the grinding of cogs and gears.

 Falling to the ground, I was roughly thrust aside by a powerful rush of air and looking up I could scarcely believe my eyes... .hurtling by my friend and I was a magnificent, green steam locomotive followed by three shabby but still elegant carriages! It huffed and puffed along the embankment beside us proudly chugging coal soot and steam into the atmosphere.

 After such a shock, Leslie, being the oldest, gently took me by the arm and proceeded to carefully guide me back down the steep grassy slope.

Gingerly stepping back through the wire railings we were met by an irate group of our parents and neighbors all acutely concerned with our whereabouts.



As we began describing what we had witnessed that afternoon to account for our absence we found our explanation met with incredulous stares. The adults regarded us suspiciously and seemed completely unconvinced by our recount.

Incoherently babbling about the train we had seen we were stopped in mid-flow by my father, taking us to one side he patiently rationalised why our account was preposterous . . . steam engines had been replaced by diesel many years previously, trains had ceased to run along that particular (Marton) line in 1964 and by 1970 the tracks had been removed!!

 As if this chronicle wasn’t ominous enough, there is also an uncanny postscript, Leslie and I were convinced we had been exploring for no more than an hour at most but according to our respective parents we had in reality been missing for the best part of the day, hence the search party!



 Interestingly, the trackbed of this old rail route is still in existence, it is now ‘Yeadon Way’ the main road out of Blackpool Lancashire leading to the M55 motorway. I often wonder if anyone else has born witness to the phantasmagorical phenomenon of the spectral ghost train.]]>
Rising high above the ordinary row of terraced houses the seemingly perpendicular hill had been tempting us all summer, not because it was anything special, there was nothing grand or remarkable about it at all, the appeal came from the fact we were forbidden to play there and to two small children, this was reason enough! We had marveled at the bigger boys who had bravely stolen wire cutters from the nearby allotments and watched jealously as almost every afternoon they disappeared together through the hole they had snipped into the fence. So this is how we found ourselves scratched, stung and sore, disobediently trespassing on an old earthwork owned by British Rail.

 Upon reaching the brow of the mound we stopped to catch our breath and consider our surroundings. Unimpressed by what we discovered there, we nonchalantly wandered down a cinder path, stopping periodically to gather small posies of clover, daisies and buttercups until boredom got the better of us.

We pondered the appeal of the place and thought it was perhaps time to head home when we spied a great, grey cloud on the horizon, it came into view quite unexpectedly and appeared to be heading towards the pair of us at an alarming rate. We exchanged worried glances, searching each other’s faces in the hope of finding an explanation there for the strange anomaly before us. Suddenly, we became aware of a deep rumbling sound accompanied by a shrill whistle then the grinding of cogs and gears.

 Falling to the ground, I was roughly thrust aside by a powerful rush of air and looking up I could scarcely believe my eyes... .hurtling by my friend and I was a magnificent, green steam locomotive followed by three shabby but still elegant carriages! It huffed and puffed along the embankment beside us proudly chugging coal soot and steam into the atmosphere.

 After such a shock, Leslie, being the oldest, gently took me by the arm and proceeded to carefully guide me back down the steep grassy slope.

Gingerly stepping back through the wire railings we were met by an irate group of our parents and neighbors all acutely concerned with our whereabouts.



As we began describing what we had witnessed that afternoon to account for our absence we found our explanation met with incredulous stares. The adults regarded us suspiciously and seemed completely unconvinced by our recount.

Incoherently babbling about the train we had seen we were stopped in mid-flow by my father, taking us to one side he patiently rationalised why our account was preposterous . . . steam engines had been replaced by diesel many years previously, trains had ceased to run along that particular (Marton) line in 1964 and by 1970 the tracks had been removed!!

 As if this chronicle wasn’t ominous enough, there is also an uncanny postscript, Leslie and I were convinced we had been exploring for no more than an hour at most but according to our respective parents we had in reality been missing for the best part of the day, hence the search party!



 Interestingly, the trackbed of this old rail route is still in existence, it is now ‘Yeadon Way’ the main road out of Blackpool Lancashire leading to the M55 motorway. I often wonder if anyone else has born witness to the phantasmagorical phenomenon of the spectral ghost train.]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-They-Didn%E2%80%99t-Know-they-were-dead Fri, 06 Jul 2018 07:53:03 +0000 SophiaJurado]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-They-Didn%E2%80%99t-Know-they-were-dead These six women all had different health needs, but one thing in common, Dementia. This specific house was designed to provide women with Dementia a final Happiness, at the very last stage, before passing. Should any of the women be ready to pass, we would call the Families and advise them to come say their last good byes. 

My Job, was to properly care for these women during the Night Shifts. From time to time I would have some women that would forget where they where? I would remind them of who they are and where they live, then help them back into bed. Even on bad nights, I would sing to them to put them back to sleep. I did everything I could to care for them, much like children, or my own Grandmother. But these women would never truly be the same person before they died.

One night, I relieved a Caregiver who didn’t brief my on the events that happened earlier that day, she was in a hurry to leave. So I didn’t bother asking her because I could always just go double check on each lady during my shift.

I began cleaning the home, started a load of laundry and prepped meals for tomorrow’s shift. Around 2am, I always turn off some lights to save energy and I plug in the night lights instead.

It was now 3:05am, and I just finished checking on all the ladies to see if they were still sleeping? Then I went into the living room and grabbed the folded laundry to put away.

Their was one lady that we had for about 6 months that would keep getting out of bed around 3:30am, and she would always want a glass of water.

I was walking down the hallway putting all the ladies laundry away in their rooms, when I saw her walk out of her room in her nightgown and walk straight into the living room, as if she remembered where the kitchen was? I called out to her, but she kept walking, I entered the living room, I sat the laundry on the chair when you first walk in. I saw that she was confused of where the kitchen was, she had her back facing me and her hair was white and messy, she wouldn’t face me after I called out to her three times. So I took two steps towards her...and said, “Come here sweetie, I’m here to help you.”

Then I heard a voice coming from behind me. My lady was still in her room, and she asked me for a drink of water. I was so scared to turn around to see who was in the bedroom, & I couldn’t take my eyes off of this unknown woman in front of me.

I couldn’t move and I could feel my pulse on my neck. Then the woman in front of me began to turn and face me; but all I could see was her messy hair in her face. She was walking towards me and all I could do is breathe heavily and use my right arm to search on the wall on my right hand side to find the light switch. All I had was a night light near my ankles for light and I was scared, paralyzed with fear. The unknown lady began to reach out to me by extending her arms and open her hands.

I never blinked. I was able to find the light switch and click on it. When I did, the lady was gone; she vanished!

I let out a large breath and grabbed my heart. I turned around, and saw no one. I went to sit down on the couch and try to figure out every possible explanation, but couldn’t. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of water for my lady, when I went into her room, she had fallen back to sleep. I kept looking at her while she slept, how similar she looked to the unknown women, but wasn’t. I tried not to think about it and told myself to stay busy during my shift, and I left all the hallway lights on, as well as the living room and kitchen, every night till the morning Caregiver arrived.

When the morning Caregiver came, she asked me how was my shift. I didn’t tell her what happened because I didn’t want to scare anyone, and I didn’t think anyone cared? Or would believe me? I was still scared and shaky by 7am. I told her I wanted to rush home, everything is ready for today’s shift and good luck. The Caregiver looked at me like I was being rude but I just wanted to go home.

When I returned to the House, the following shift which was Midnight. The same Caregiver was there, I apologized for my rudeness and as I began to explain my night, she interrupted and said, “Did you hear about Bonnie’s Sister? She died in her sleep last night. I didn’t want to tell her, did you?” I was confused?
“I didn’t know Bonnie had a sister? She never mentioned it, perhaps it’s because of the dementia?” I said.
The Caregiver said, “Yeah. Bonnie had a Sister who we cared for at the other location.”
I didn’t say anything about my shift. I didn’t say anything after that. The Caregiver grabbed her purse and walked to the front door. As she was leaving and I began to sit down to clock in by phone, the Caregiver said, “it must be hard to lose a twin sister? Good luck tonight.”
My eyes opened and I didn’t blink. I didn’t do anything but stair at the location where I saw the unknown woman.

I never saw her again. Bonnie died a few days later, on my day off. Once I found out Bonnie was gone, I stopped working there.

From what I was told by other Caregivers who worked there when I did. The owners sold the house, and bought another one a few house down, near their other location.

I’ve never been back to that house again, nor do I plan too.



I only shared this ghost encounter with my family. Even now, I’m still a Caregiver and they don’t want me working Nights.]]> These six women all had different health needs, but one thing in common, Dementia. This specific house was designed to provide women with Dementia a final Happiness, at the very last stage, before passing. Should any of the women be ready to pass, we would call the Families and advise them to come say their last good byes. 

My Job, was to properly care for these women during the Night Shifts. From time to time I would have some women that would forget where they where? I would remind them of who they are and where they live, then help them back into bed. Even on bad nights, I would sing to them to put them back to sleep. I did everything I could to care for them, much like children, or my own Grandmother. But these women would never truly be the same person before they died.

One night, I relieved a Caregiver who didn’t brief my on the events that happened earlier that day, she was in a hurry to leave. So I didn’t bother asking her because I could always just go double check on each lady during my shift.

I began cleaning the home, started a load of laundry and prepped meals for tomorrow’s shift. Around 2am, I always turn off some lights to save energy and I plug in the night lights instead.

It was now 3:05am, and I just finished checking on all the ladies to see if they were still sleeping? Then I went into the living room and grabbed the folded laundry to put away.

Their was one lady that we had for about 6 months that would keep getting out of bed around 3:30am, and she would always want a glass of water.

I was walking down the hallway putting all the ladies laundry away in their rooms, when I saw her walk out of her room in her nightgown and walk straight into the living room, as if she remembered where the kitchen was? I called out to her, but she kept walking, I entered the living room, I sat the laundry on the chair when you first walk in. I saw that she was confused of where the kitchen was, she had her back facing me and her hair was white and messy, she wouldn’t face me after I called out to her three times. So I took two steps towards her...and said, “Come here sweetie, I’m here to help you.”

Then I heard a voice coming from behind me. My lady was still in her room, and she asked me for a drink of water. I was so scared to turn around to see who was in the bedroom, & I couldn’t take my eyes off of this unknown woman in front of me.

I couldn’t move and I could feel my pulse on my neck. Then the woman in front of me began to turn and face me; but all I could see was her messy hair in her face. She was walking towards me and all I could do is breathe heavily and use my right arm to search on the wall on my right hand side to find the light switch. All I had was a night light near my ankles for light and I was scared, paralyzed with fear. The unknown lady began to reach out to me by extending her arms and open her hands.

I never blinked. I was able to find the light switch and click on it. When I did, the lady was gone; she vanished!

I let out a large breath and grabbed my heart. I turned around, and saw no one. I went to sit down on the couch and try to figure out every possible explanation, but couldn’t. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of water for my lady, when I went into her room, she had fallen back to sleep. I kept looking at her while she slept, how similar she looked to the unknown women, but wasn’t. I tried not to think about it and told myself to stay busy during my shift, and I left all the hallway lights on, as well as the living room and kitchen, every night till the morning Caregiver arrived.

When the morning Caregiver came, she asked me how was my shift. I didn’t tell her what happened because I didn’t want to scare anyone, and I didn’t think anyone cared? Or would believe me? I was still scared and shaky by 7am. I told her I wanted to rush home, everything is ready for today’s shift and good luck. The Caregiver looked at me like I was being rude but I just wanted to go home.

When I returned to the House, the following shift which was Midnight. The same Caregiver was there, I apologized for my rudeness and as I began to explain my night, she interrupted and said, “Did you hear about Bonnie’s Sister? She died in her sleep last night. I didn’t want to tell her, did you?” I was confused?
“I didn’t know Bonnie had a sister? She never mentioned it, perhaps it’s because of the dementia?” I said.
The Caregiver said, “Yeah. Bonnie had a Sister who we cared for at the other location.”
I didn’t say anything about my shift. I didn’t say anything after that. The Caregiver grabbed her purse and walked to the front door. As she was leaving and I began to sit down to clock in by phone, the Caregiver said, “it must be hard to lose a twin sister? Good luck tonight.”
My eyes opened and I didn’t blink. I didn’t do anything but stair at the location where I saw the unknown woman.

I never saw her again. Bonnie died a few days later, on my day off. Once I found out Bonnie was gone, I stopped working there.

From what I was told by other Caregivers who worked there when I did. The owners sold the house, and bought another one a few house down, near their other location.

I’ve never been back to that house again, nor do I plan too.



I only shared this ghost encounter with my family. Even now, I’m still a Caregiver and they don’t want me working Nights.]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Awakened Wed, 20 Jun 2018 06:56:50 +0000 Bodhi]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Awakened I had been increasingly sick since my twenties. I was married and had two amazing sons and was blessed with a step daughter. By my mid thirties, I had under gone multiple surgeries and suffered pain on a level words couldn’t possibly describe. My illness had already taken my life once before and continues to threaten taking it everyday. All in all, this heart has been recorded not beating three times. Lord knows how many times it stops when I faint. Perhaps this suffering is what allows me to feel beyond what we define as normal. Sometimes I feel it can be a blessing- such as dreaming I have a flat tire. That’s made me check before I left plenty of times and always with good reason. Then there are times my gift is a curse. I feel all the pain and sadness in a room with me. At one time, I vowed to walk away from Paranormal investigating.
As fate should have it; I left a group of investigators that had far more chiefs than Indians. It started out as a way we could find time outside being mothers and wife’s. We loved having each others company and the weekend get-a-ways that allowed us to openly embrace the possibility of spirits and the sort. By the time I left it became far more about two main girls that dictated everything possible. It became drinking and egos so I chose to walk away. To this day I can’t help but think we stumbled on a darkness that turned the girls so far south. Or, maybe life just has a plan and our group simply wasn’t made to be.
In the weeks to come my chronic life took its toll on my marriage. The boys and I moved to a little town known as Byron, Wyoming. My grandmother had lived there her all her life. She raised my father, his two brothers, and his sister in this small town. I’m not sure what called me to move there but all stars lit the way and we soon called it home.
I rented a small two bedroom trailer home that allowed a quick escape on a limited income. Not long after we moved in with what little we had to our name, a handyman came by to fix an appliance. He recognized me from the YouTube videos of our previous group. He mentioned a glass case being shattered at the local museum. He insisted, even after I explained my situation, that I call the mayor in response to her interest in a paranormal investigation. Like a moth to the flame, the story captured me and I couldnt resist. I made the phone call and she took my offer to do the investigation.
I met with the curator at the museum. She was an older woman of Mormon faith. She was beautiful and kind, very soft spoken. Despite the fact that she wasn’t so sure she was a “believer”, he curator joined me for the investigation. I was nervous; I had never done this on my own before. I was far more a photographer/videographer than I was an investigator.
I did what I knew best. I explained what I was doing just before I would start recording or running equipment. It was just as important to me that she learned the process as it was that I obtained evidence. What happened in that musuem was beyond overwhelming. This was a level I had never before experienced- and I thought I had experienced it all.
As soon as the lights went out we began to hear footsteps walking around us from above. There was no crawl space in that area of the building and we ruled out any rational explanation. When I wondered down into the display room I began to feel so many emotions. I wanted to cry, laugh, be angry- just about anything you could think of- I felt it. I began to see a constant flow of energy. I knew it wasn’t human or animal. After a few moments it came to me, it was water.
The further I would walk I would “feel” even more. I knew there was a woman looking for a girl. She was desperate to find her near water. She was re-living a memory over and over. She felt loss and sorrow that I could only explain as an emotion you would feel when losing a loved one.
Normally, these images are like reading a book. The emotions I feel put a corresponding image in my mind; as if reading the details within a chapter. This one- this was different. I could see her. I could see every part of her and the pain she carried in her eyes. If she were here as only a memory, then how was she looking back at me? How was she able to communicate with me? What was she asking me to help with?
She was there as if she knew only she and I were in that room.  She didn’t see the living curator with me. She didn’t give notice to the spiritual man I could feel telling me to stay away, the ghostly woman who was grown with the mind of a child, and deceased young man who watched from the walls of the adjoined town hall. She didn’t notice any of them.
I couldn’t understand why she kept referring to a town two hours away, known as Thermopolis, Wyoming. The story wasn’t adding up. The water I could see wasn’t the water she referred to. They were different. There was a river not far from the museum that I felt maybe she could be pertaining to? If so, what was the water I was seeing that she didn’t acknowledge? Why was she pointing me to a town two hours from that place? Who is the young lady or child she is looking for? It didn’t seem to be her daughter, or at least, not an infant or young child.
I had to step away several times. The emotions were too much to receive all at once. Every time I returned from my short “re-set” time outside the building, she was ready to re-live the same presentation over and over. This wasn’t scary as much as it was puzzling. What is she trying to tell me? Why am I seeing her not just feeling her? It was, no doubt, hard to move on in the investigation and the frustration of not understanding was hard to work beyond.
The town hall and museum told many stories with the emotion that laid sight unseen. Our evidence would later validate everything I “felt.” We had whispers that clearly said, “Kirby. In the orange shed,” “coo-coo-birds coop” and several other unmistakable eps. We documented the sound of slamming doors and verified we were the only living souls around or in the building. We couldn’t explain a great many things that happened during our short stay with any conclusion other than that of a haunting.
I assumed that any energy that may be in that building would be connected to the objects that lay preserved in time behind glass cases and locked doors. However, that wasn’t the case, or at least, not the case entirely. Just before my presentation to present the mayor and city council with my findings, I was informed that the museum had a natural water drainage system in the ground below the building. Maybe this gave these spirits the means to present themselves?
It took a year to find my dear lady and what she so desperately wanted me to see. I spent time thumbing through the pages of scrap books and newspaper articles. I came across an article that read something along the lines of, “Family In Crises After Vehicle Accident.” There was a car accident that involved a family from this town. The Brown family was returning home from their celebration of one of their daughters birthdays. Byron was, is, and always has been a large Mormon community and the families tend to be rather large.The family (originally from Thermopolis) piled in the station wagon: mother in the passenger seat, father driving, the birthday daughter and her siblings further back.
Along their path back to Byron from Cody, they came upon a truck that had been hauling an oil storage tanker. The tanker failed to see the car- the car failed to stop and ultimately crashed into the truck. The driver of the truck wasn’t harmed but the Brown family lost greatly. The mother died at the scene. Two of her children were found at the rivers bank. Her daughter, who was celebrating her 17th birthday, was sent to Billings, Montana to St. Vincent’s Healthcare where she would be declared deceased only three days later. The father, also sent to a larger hospital facility, would give his last breathe just one day shy of a week since the accident.
The paper later noted that the investigating officers found no trace of evidence to suggest that Mr. Brown had tried to apply the brakes before hitting the truck carrying the oil tank. This led the officers to inspect the brakes on the vehicle. They ruled that the brake line had been damaged and Mr. Brown had no way to slow or stop his vehicle to avoid the truck.
After a year of seeing Mrs. Browns face burned into my memory with so much pain and sorrow, I sat in the very same museum and became overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if I were her and all this time I spent looking for my daughter had just devastatingly come to an end. I honestly didn’t know what to say or how to react on my own behalf. I collected myself after several minutes. As if to say, “Go be with her” I said all I had learned out loud. As I closed the books that contained the articles and I placed them back into the cases that homed them, I felt suddenly alone. I gathered my things and and walked up the stairs to let the clerk know I was leaving. Just as I walked up to her door, the cash register started printing receipts all on its own.
I can’t say for certain that this was the story of Mrs. Brown and her search for her daughter. The clerk reports that the activity has spurred up intensly once again. If this was Mrs. Brown, is she upset? Is she bound here; if so, by what? Is this another woman entirely? The museum has asked me back to do another investigation. I have spent many days in the building doing research. I still go there with the curator who has become an amazing friend, and yes, I still feel the emotion and energy in the building. However, I don’t feel or see the woman and I haven’t since that day.
In the year I spent trying to solve the woman’s mystery, I discovered that the building was actually originally the lunch room and ag room from abandoned school across the street. We had voices telling us, “connected” all during the investigation. I contacted the owner of the school property who welcomed me to continue our investigation into the school.
The school, the musuem, the town- it all offered a mystery I couldn’t help but want to solve. Was it my ancestry that pulled me so close to this? Was this what fate should have in store for me? I was offered an opportunity to educate the public. I started a business that inspires unity and embraces differences. A business that educates about being open to possibilities and holds high the history, the sacrifice and the stories of our ancestors before us. I named my business, Bodhi Paranormal. By definition, Bodhi stands for, “awakening” or “enlightenment”. I have witnessed group after group (helping me run investigations) go from critics to believers. I have seen these groups start as strangers and throughout the investigation- each and every member played their part in contributions/roles/responsibility. They protected one another, they united in efforts to dispel drafts, slamming doors and foot prints. They started lighting up our Facebook page with clues and mysterious, stories and new friendships.
This tired body inspired my soul to long for purpose. I know how precious my time in this life is. I spend my days advocating for acute chronic pain and rare illness. I spend my nights helping people embrace something they never knew was possible. The Byron Museum inspired me to embrace a part of me I had long suppressed and tried desperately to ignore. A part of me that allowed and encouraged empathy for both the living,the dead, and for history. I no longer felt ashamed or indifferent. I found purpose, pride, respect and honor. Now, Bodhi hosts investigations at the old Byron school. Our adventures have truly only begun. Just last Saturday, we experienced foot steps walking on the landing above the pool.
As I looked up, I couldn’t believe what my eyes had just seen. I had never been so scared in my life! I wanted to run, hide, but I knew I was the host for the investigation- I had to stay strong! The mission for my business was not to install fear, but rather to embrace the notion that maybe all that’s left behind isn’t evil or scary. This, however, gave an emotion I still can’t explain. I saw it there. It sat crouched, with its arms around its knees. It was flesh colored as if naked and exposed. I screamed and cried, “Did you see that!”...... (To be continued..The Bodhi Project)]]> I had been increasingly sick since my twenties. I was married and had two amazing sons and was blessed with a step daughter. By my mid thirties, I had under gone multiple surgeries and suffered pain on a level words couldn’t possibly describe. My illness had already taken my life once before and continues to threaten taking it everyday. All in all, this heart has been recorded not beating three times. Lord knows how many times it stops when I faint. Perhaps this suffering is what allows me to feel beyond what we define as normal. Sometimes I feel it can be a blessing- such as dreaming I have a flat tire. That’s made me check before I left plenty of times and always with good reason. Then there are times my gift is a curse. I feel all the pain and sadness in a room with me. At one time, I vowed to walk away from Paranormal investigating.
As fate should have it; I left a group of investigators that had far more chiefs than Indians. It started out as a way we could find time outside being mothers and wife’s. We loved having each others company and the weekend get-a-ways that allowed us to openly embrace the possibility of spirits and the sort. By the time I left it became far more about two main girls that dictated everything possible. It became drinking and egos so I chose to walk away. To this day I can’t help but think we stumbled on a darkness that turned the girls so far south. Or, maybe life just has a plan and our group simply wasn’t made to be.
In the weeks to come my chronic life took its toll on my marriage. The boys and I moved to a little town known as Byron, Wyoming. My grandmother had lived there her all her life. She raised my father, his two brothers, and his sister in this small town. I’m not sure what called me to move there but all stars lit the way and we soon called it home.
I rented a small two bedroom trailer home that allowed a quick escape on a limited income. Not long after we moved in with what little we had to our name, a handyman came by to fix an appliance. He recognized me from the YouTube videos of our previous group. He mentioned a glass case being shattered at the local museum. He insisted, even after I explained my situation, that I call the mayor in response to her interest in a paranormal investigation. Like a moth to the flame, the story captured me and I couldnt resist. I made the phone call and she took my offer to do the investigation.
I met with the curator at the museum. She was an older woman of Mormon faith. She was beautiful and kind, very soft spoken. Despite the fact that she wasn’t so sure she was a “believer”, he curator joined me for the investigation. I was nervous; I had never done this on my own before. I was far more a photographer/videographer than I was an investigator.
I did what I knew best. I explained what I was doing just before I would start recording or running equipment. It was just as important to me that she learned the process as it was that I obtained evidence. What happened in that musuem was beyond overwhelming. This was a level I had never before experienced- and I thought I had experienced it all.
As soon as the lights went out we began to hear footsteps walking around us from above. There was no crawl space in that area of the building and we ruled out any rational explanation. When I wondered down into the display room I began to feel so many emotions. I wanted to cry, laugh, be angry- just about anything you could think of- I felt it. I began to see a constant flow of energy. I knew it wasn’t human or animal. After a few moments it came to me, it was water.
The further I would walk I would “feel” even more. I knew there was a woman looking for a girl. She was desperate to find her near water. She was re-living a memory over and over. She felt loss and sorrow that I could only explain as an emotion you would feel when losing a loved one.
Normally, these images are like reading a book. The emotions I feel put a corresponding image in my mind; as if reading the details within a chapter. This one- this was different. I could see her. I could see every part of her and the pain she carried in her eyes. If she were here as only a memory, then how was she looking back at me? How was she able to communicate with me? What was she asking me to help with?
She was there as if she knew only she and I were in that room.  She didn’t see the living curator with me. She didn’t give notice to the spiritual man I could feel telling me to stay away, the ghostly woman who was grown with the mind of a child, and deceased young man who watched from the walls of the adjoined town hall. She didn’t notice any of them.
I couldn’t understand why she kept referring to a town two hours away, known as Thermopolis, Wyoming. The story wasn’t adding up. The water I could see wasn’t the water she referred to. They were different. There was a river not far from the museum that I felt maybe she could be pertaining to? If so, what was the water I was seeing that she didn’t acknowledge? Why was she pointing me to a town two hours from that place? Who is the young lady or child she is looking for? It didn’t seem to be her daughter, or at least, not an infant or young child.
I had to step away several times. The emotions were too much to receive all at once. Every time I returned from my short “re-set” time outside the building, she was ready to re-live the same presentation over and over. This wasn’t scary as much as it was puzzling. What is she trying to tell me? Why am I seeing her not just feeling her? It was, no doubt, hard to move on in the investigation and the frustration of not understanding was hard to work beyond.
The town hall and museum told many stories with the emotion that laid sight unseen. Our evidence would later validate everything I “felt.” We had whispers that clearly said, “Kirby. In the orange shed,” “coo-coo-birds coop” and several other unmistakable eps. We documented the sound of slamming doors and verified we were the only living souls around or in the building. We couldn’t explain a great many things that happened during our short stay with any conclusion other than that of a haunting.
I assumed that any energy that may be in that building would be connected to the objects that lay preserved in time behind glass cases and locked doors. However, that wasn’t the case, or at least, not the case entirely. Just before my presentation to present the mayor and city council with my findings, I was informed that the museum had a natural water drainage system in the ground below the building. Maybe this gave these spirits the means to present themselves?
It took a year to find my dear lady and what she so desperately wanted me to see. I spent time thumbing through the pages of scrap books and newspaper articles. I came across an article that read something along the lines of, “Family In Crises After Vehicle Accident.” There was a car accident that involved a family from this town. The Brown family was returning home from their celebration of one of their daughters birthdays. Byron was, is, and always has been a large Mormon community and the families tend to be rather large.The family (originally from Thermopolis) piled in the station wagon: mother in the passenger seat, father driving, the birthday daughter and her siblings further back.
Along their path back to Byron from Cody, they came upon a truck that had been hauling an oil storage tanker. The tanker failed to see the car- the car failed to stop and ultimately crashed into the truck. The driver of the truck wasn’t harmed but the Brown family lost greatly. The mother died at the scene. Two of her children were found at the rivers bank. Her daughter, who was celebrating her 17th birthday, was sent to Billings, Montana to St. Vincent’s Healthcare where she would be declared deceased only three days later. The father, also sent to a larger hospital facility, would give his last breathe just one day shy of a week since the accident.
The paper later noted that the investigating officers found no trace of evidence to suggest that Mr. Brown had tried to apply the brakes before hitting the truck carrying the oil tank. This led the officers to inspect the brakes on the vehicle. They ruled that the brake line had been damaged and Mr. Brown had no way to slow or stop his vehicle to avoid the truck.
After a year of seeing Mrs. Browns face burned into my memory with so much pain and sorrow, I sat in the very same museum and became overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if I were her and all this time I spent looking for my daughter had just devastatingly come to an end. I honestly didn’t know what to say or how to react on my own behalf. I collected myself after several minutes. As if to say, “Go be with her” I said all I had learned out loud. As I closed the books that contained the articles and I placed them back into the cases that homed them, I felt suddenly alone. I gathered my things and and walked up the stairs to let the clerk know I was leaving. Just as I walked up to her door, the cash register started printing receipts all on its own.
I can’t say for certain that this was the story of Mrs. Brown and her search for her daughter. The clerk reports that the activity has spurred up intensly once again. If this was Mrs. Brown, is she upset? Is she bound here; if so, by what? Is this another woman entirely? The museum has asked me back to do another investigation. I have spent many days in the building doing research. I still go there with the curator who has become an amazing friend, and yes, I still feel the emotion and energy in the building. However, I don’t feel or see the woman and I haven’t since that day.
In the year I spent trying to solve the woman’s mystery, I discovered that the building was actually originally the lunch room and ag room from abandoned school across the street. We had voices telling us, “connected” all during the investigation. I contacted the owner of the school property who welcomed me to continue our investigation into the school.
The school, the musuem, the town- it all offered a mystery I couldn’t help but want to solve. Was it my ancestry that pulled me so close to this? Was this what fate should have in store for me? I was offered an opportunity to educate the public. I started a business that inspires unity and embraces differences. A business that educates about being open to possibilities and holds high the history, the sacrifice and the stories of our ancestors before us. I named my business, Bodhi Paranormal. By definition, Bodhi stands for, “awakening” or “enlightenment”. I have witnessed group after group (helping me run investigations) go from critics to believers. I have seen these groups start as strangers and throughout the investigation- each and every member played their part in contributions/roles/responsibility. They protected one another, they united in efforts to dispel drafts, slamming doors and foot prints. They started lighting up our Facebook page with clues and mysterious, stories and new friendships.
This tired body inspired my soul to long for purpose. I know how precious my time in this life is. I spend my days advocating for acute chronic pain and rare illness. I spend my nights helping people embrace something they never knew was possible. The Byron Museum inspired me to embrace a part of me I had long suppressed and tried desperately to ignore. A part of me that allowed and encouraged empathy for both the living,the dead, and for history. I no longer felt ashamed or indifferent. I found purpose, pride, respect and honor. Now, Bodhi hosts investigations at the old Byron school. Our adventures have truly only begun. Just last Saturday, we experienced foot steps walking on the landing above the pool.
As I looked up, I couldn’t believe what my eyes had just seen. I had never been so scared in my life! I wanted to run, hide, but I knew I was the host for the investigation- I had to stay strong! The mission for my business was not to install fear, but rather to embrace the notion that maybe all that’s left behind isn’t evil or scary. This, however, gave an emotion I still can’t explain. I saw it there. It sat crouched, with its arms around its knees. It was flesh colored as if naked and exposed. I screamed and cried, “Did you see that!”...... (To be continued..The Bodhi Project)]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-This-is-MY-death-and-I-ll-do-MY-way Thu, 07 Jun 2018 22:31:17 +0000 WyspersInTheDark]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-This-is-MY-death-and-I-ll-do-MY-way
So, I did...

When I arrived, the first thing I notice is her left arm making a repeated motion as if flicking someone's hand off of it. So, I tuned in. Sure enough, there was my grandfather who had passed several years previously....and my grandmother.

For those who aren't aware, at a point NEAR death, the spirit is able to step out of the physical body. The physical body is still alive and the spirit remains connected to it. This was the stage my grandmother was at.

And she was in her full former glory....stubborn, opinionated and in control of the situation.


The conversation went roughly like this:


Grandfather:  Come on dear. It's time to go. Come with me.

Grandmother: Dammit grandfather! This is MY death...and I'll do it the way *I* want! Now, I'm not going ANYWHERE until my dad gets here! So you can just quit trying to SUCK me off into the afterlife said while gesturing grandly.


Oh...yes indeed. I knew then that he and I were in for a mighty fine time. My grandmother is the epitome of "spitfire". Arguing with her is a wholly fruitless endeavor. So my grandfather patiently stepped back, stood in the corner and waited. He knows...

My father arrived the next day. He walked into the room, She opened her eyes (having stepped back into her physical body at some point the previous evening. He spent several hours with her before telling her he would be back in the morning and heading to my aunt's house. I, myself, stepped out to get some dinner and returned to relieve another family member who was sitting with her. The family member left and my grandmother pops out again.
I was able, for the first time in years, to have a real conversation with her. This consisted of her giving me the lowdown on who to keep in line and how to do it, instructions on not letting anyone revive her when she was ready to go (to which I had to promise to use any means necessary to prevent it), "how the he** are you even talking to me? And why did I not know this about you?", and her description of dementia (which she described as "It's like you are flying a plane and some drunken monkey trusses you up, gags you, takes the controls and all you can do is scream silently as you watch the horror show unfold.") All in all, it was a classic conversation with my grams. She's like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're going to get.

The next morning, we returned and my dad again spent a while visiting with her. He and my aunt then decided to pop out to my dad's favorite coffee shop that he likes to visit when he is in town. My grandmother was already out of her body when we got there, so the moment they walked out of the room, she's giving me instructions.

"Now, you keep an eye out and let me know when they get back....when they are coming across the parking lot. You hear me?"

She says before realizing that because two of my cousins are still in the room, my barely perceptible nod is all she's going to get in the way of an answer.

So, sometime later, I see my dad and aunt walking across the parking lot and casually say to one of my cousins..."Oh, look! Dad and your mom are back..."

Ten seconds later, my grandmother stops breathing and detaches from her physical body. She wanted her kids close but didn't want them to see her actually pass.

Granddad jumps the gun and gets reprimanded - "You just stay right where you are. I'm not going anywhere until I kiss my kids goodbye."

My dad and aunt walk into the room to find my cousin barreling out to go find a doctor. My grandmother walks over to my dad, gives him a kiss on the cheek and says "Goodbye my baby boy..."

Then she walks over to my aunt, puts her hands on her hips and says "I swear .....You were a constant thorn in my side. I never knew whether to put my foot up your backside or just ignore your craziness and hope it would go away. Right now though...you'll have to settle for a kiss." and kissed her on the cheek as well.

She turns to me - "You have more sense than any of my grandkids...that's why I'm trusting you with this job. Now, don't you let them run amuck. Oh...and one last thing. I gave you my name. You, by GOD, better carry my casket to my service....and don't let these fools drop me."

At this point, she turns back to my granddad...walking towards him.

"Oh, what? Now you have nothing to say? Well, come on then. Go ahead. SUCK me off into the afterlife Eager Andy." again making the same grand gesture, flinging her hands and arms out and then apart.

While I'm left there trying not to laugh. My family already thinks I'm odd. The last thing in the world I needed was to laugh at my grandmother's passing.

But...as always....she did it her way...Planned out every step and put her business in order.
How could I NOT laugh? I don't know but I know I thought I was going to blow an aneurysm from the effort of keeping a straight face.

Some days a gift....
Some days a curse....

WyspersInTheDark]]>
So, I did...

When I arrived, the first thing I notice is her left arm making a repeated motion as if flicking someone's hand off of it. So, I tuned in. Sure enough, there was my grandfather who had passed several years previously....and my grandmother.

For those who aren't aware, at a point NEAR death, the spirit is able to step out of the physical body. The physical body is still alive and the spirit remains connected to it. This was the stage my grandmother was at.

And she was in her full former glory....stubborn, opinionated and in control of the situation.


The conversation went roughly like this:


Grandfather:  Come on dear. It's time to go. Come with me.

Grandmother: Dammit grandfather! This is MY death...and I'll do it the way *I* want! Now, I'm not going ANYWHERE until my dad gets here! So you can just quit trying to SUCK me off into the afterlife said while gesturing grandly.


Oh...yes indeed. I knew then that he and I were in for a mighty fine time. My grandmother is the epitome of "spitfire". Arguing with her is a wholly fruitless endeavor. So my grandfather patiently stepped back, stood in the corner and waited. He knows...

My father arrived the next day. He walked into the room, She opened her eyes (having stepped back into her physical body at some point the previous evening. He spent several hours with her before telling her he would be back in the morning and heading to my aunt's house. I, myself, stepped out to get some dinner and returned to relieve another family member who was sitting with her. The family member left and my grandmother pops out again.
I was able, for the first time in years, to have a real conversation with her. This consisted of her giving me the lowdown on who to keep in line and how to do it, instructions on not letting anyone revive her when she was ready to go (to which I had to promise to use any means necessary to prevent it), "how the he** are you even talking to me? And why did I not know this about you?", and her description of dementia (which she described as "It's like you are flying a plane and some drunken monkey trusses you up, gags you, takes the controls and all you can do is scream silently as you watch the horror show unfold.") All in all, it was a classic conversation with my grams. She's like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're going to get.

The next morning, we returned and my dad again spent a while visiting with her. He and my aunt then decided to pop out to my dad's favorite coffee shop that he likes to visit when he is in town. My grandmother was already out of her body when we got there, so the moment they walked out of the room, she's giving me instructions.

"Now, you keep an eye out and let me know when they get back....when they are coming across the parking lot. You hear me?"

She says before realizing that because two of my cousins are still in the room, my barely perceptible nod is all she's going to get in the way of an answer.

So, sometime later, I see my dad and aunt walking across the parking lot and casually say to one of my cousins..."Oh, look! Dad and your mom are back..."

Ten seconds later, my grandmother stops breathing and detaches from her physical body. She wanted her kids close but didn't want them to see her actually pass.

Granddad jumps the gun and gets reprimanded - "You just stay right where you are. I'm not going anywhere until I kiss my kids goodbye."

My dad and aunt walk into the room to find my cousin barreling out to go find a doctor. My grandmother walks over to my dad, gives him a kiss on the cheek and says "Goodbye my baby boy..."

Then she walks over to my aunt, puts her hands on her hips and says "I swear .....You were a constant thorn in my side. I never knew whether to put my foot up your backside or just ignore your craziness and hope it would go away. Right now though...you'll have to settle for a kiss." and kissed her on the cheek as well.

She turns to me - "You have more sense than any of my grandkids...that's why I'm trusting you with this job. Now, don't you let them run amuck. Oh...and one last thing. I gave you my name. You, by GOD, better carry my casket to my service....and don't let these fools drop me."

At this point, she turns back to my granddad...walking towards him.

"Oh, what? Now you have nothing to say? Well, come on then. Go ahead. SUCK me off into the afterlife Eager Andy." again making the same grand gesture, flinging her hands and arms out and then apart.

While I'm left there trying not to laugh. My family already thinks I'm odd. The last thing in the world I needed was to laugh at my grandmother's passing.

But...as always....she did it her way...Planned out every step and put her business in order.
How could I NOT laugh? I don't know but I know I thought I was going to blow an aneurysm from the effort of keeping a straight face.

Some days a gift....
Some days a curse....

WyspersInTheDark]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Real-Ghost-Story Wed, 04 Apr 2018 23:04:23 +0000 reynaldideleon1980]]> https://myghoststory.com/submission-Real-Ghost-Story     On October 31, 1980 during my seventeenth year a dramatic
supernatural phenomenon event occurred.  For the first time in
my life, I was given a sight beyond sight.  An epiphany where
truths about the supernatural were revealed to me.  A year later
I was under attack by the same entity that gave me this knowledge.  
Through the use of witchcraft, this entity allowed dark sorcery to
invade my vessel to influence my vision.  But the aftermath, in
reality, was a frightening experience.  In conclusion, I have just
skimmed the surface with my life encounters with the unexplained.



Proposal Letter - Publishers Agents and Films   
    My name is Reynaldo Reyes I am a new writer, artist, and
independent filmmaker.  I have been writing a true story about
my life and it was inspired by the rap group Run DMC in the early
1980's.  I also sent my condolences to the family of Jason Mizell.  
I am very sad about that tragedy.  Jam Master Jay's Unsolved
Death is still Active today.  But if you understand Horror you will
realize that Jam Master Jays death was a Sinister Supernatural
Murder.

    I have been experiencing ghostly events and visions since
October 31, 1980 and somehow there is a strong connection
with the rappers Run DMC from Hollis, Queens, N.Y.  I am a
Roman Catholic, this is the religion that my mother raised me
with since I was born.  I produced a feature film documentary,
painted huge portraits, and wrote books about my life and my
experiences with God and the rappers Run DMC.  
   
    When a flaming spirit steps through a portal in the teenage
Reynaldo Reyes's living room in Brooklyn, NY and in Tampa
Florida.  It's just the first of a series of frightening encounters
and unexplained deaths, including that of the well-known
rapper Jam Master Jay of Run DMC.  This is the bizarre true
story of a life-long struggle with the Supernatural Horror.



My Website:  www.JamMasterJaysUnsolvedDeath.com



Copyrights.]]>     On October 31, 1980 during my seventeenth year a dramatic
supernatural phenomenon event occurred.  For the first time in
my life, I was given a sight beyond sight.  An epiphany where
truths about the supernatural were revealed to me.  A year later
I was under attack by the same entity that gave me this knowledge.  
Through the use of witchcraft, this entity allowed dark sorcery to
invade my vessel to influence my vision.  But the aftermath, in
reality, was a frightening experience.  In conclusion, I have just
skimmed the surface with my life encounters with the unexplained.



Proposal Letter - Publishers Agents and Films   
    My name is Reynaldo Reyes I am a new writer, artist, and
independent filmmaker.  I have been writing a true story about
my life and it was inspired by the rap group Run DMC in the early
1980's.  I also sent my condolences to the family of Jason Mizell.  
I am very sad about that tragedy.  Jam Master Jay's Unsolved
Death is still Active today.  But if you understand Horror you will
realize that Jam Master Jays death was a Sinister Supernatural
Murder.

    I have been experiencing ghostly events and visions since
October 31, 1980 and somehow there is a strong connection
with the rappers Run DMC from Hollis, Queens, N.Y.  I am a
Roman Catholic, this is the religion that my mother raised me
with since I was born.  I produced a feature film documentary,
painted huge portraits, and wrote books about my life and my
experiences with God and the rappers Run DMC.  
   
    When a flaming spirit steps through a portal in the teenage
Reynaldo Reyes's living room in Brooklyn, NY and in Tampa
Florida.  It's just the first of a series of frightening encounters
and unexplained deaths, including that of the well-known
rapper Jam Master Jay of Run DMC.  This is the bizarre true
story of a life-long struggle with the Supernatural Horror.



My Website:  www.JamMasterJaysUnsolvedDeath.com



Copyrights.]]>