Ghost stories please..

[Story]

To the top, for Halloween...

This lavish mansion retains nearly all of its original 19th-century features - and it could be yours for just over $1million. But there's a catch - the beautiful house is said to be haunted by the spirits of as many as seven former residents. In fact, the Minnesota mansion is often called 'the most haunted house in Saint Paul', which may explain why its asking price has tumbled from $1.8million to $1.1million over the past three years.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2207275/Haunted-mansion-market-1-1million.html#ixzz27gf6jdqT

 

[Atticus Finch]

One night, back in high school, I was studying in our den when I distinctly heard the door to our upstairs bedroom open...and close...and footsteps start down the stairs. At first, I thought it was my father. But then I heard Dad’s voice from the kitchen where he was helping Mom with the dishes. I jumped up and told my parents that someone was in the house and was, right then, climbing up and down the stairs. Dad fetched his pistol and we searched the entire place…every room, every closet, even the attic. But only the three of us were there. I guess lacking any better explanation, my father told me it was probably our cat climbing the den’s window screen.

Four or five years later, my father and I came home one cold winter evening to find Mom shivering on the sidewalk across the street from our house. She was in her bedroom shoes and was wearing only jeans and a thin shirt. She told us a burglar was in the house and our neighbor was calling the police. She said she had been in the den and had heard an upstairs bedroom door open and loud footsteps start down the stairs. She knew that Dad and I were at the airport, so she had run to the neighbor’s house. Just then, the police arrived and searched the house from top to bottom. There was no burglar. And, by then, our screen climbing cat was in the kitty after life.

Two years ago, my father lay dying in the den. I had put a hospital bed there for him because the tumors in his legs prevented him from climbing the stairs to his bedroom. One day, he began asking where “the boy” had gone. At first, I paid no attention to him because I thought “the boy” was another hallucination brought on by his pain medications. But as the weeks passed, Dad continued to insist that a young boy was visiting him, sometimes several times a day. Even though I was hesitant to play into Dad’s dementia, I finally asked him to describe the kid. Dad said he didn’t know the boy’s name but he was about twelve or thirteen and he had always lived in our house. He said the boy lived upstairs. In fact, my father seemed genuinely baffled that I had never met the boy. I assured Dad that I didn’t know of any children who had lived in our house since 1962…other than me…and that I doubted any were there now. Insisting that I meet the boy, dad asked me to sit quietly with him for a while. He was sure the boy wouldn’t be gone long. He smiled and said that we’d know when the boy was coming to visit because, though he was small, he sounded like a two-hundred pound man walking down our stairs.

AF

 

[nulty]

That is an amazing story AF..."the boy" must ave been an incredibly kind spirit.

I've posted this before in an other thread I think. For a while I worked at a home for wayward youth. The property dated back tot he mid 19th century and had been the county home for indigent persons and then was housing for the elderly. There is is a cemetery with many headstones going back to the 1860's. Even now in the celalr , are stalls where some of the more violent types were chained. There are very narrow doors to small rooms where people were locked away and the doors ahve small narrow sliding compartments for slipping food through. In any event many untimely and tragic deaths took place in those buildings. I would do overnight shifts where I was alone with the residents. Often I'd hear the floor creak above and someone walk across.Up I'd go with the flashlight and everyone was sound asleep. Or there would be footsteps coming down the stairs and no one there. Once I saw a picture frame come off the wall and fly 8 ft across the room. I felt an icy cold chill pass over me, on a hot muggy summer night. All these things experienced in one's own encounter are easy to attribute as a figment of imagination...

The proof of the spirits were with the youth who would spend time in the home. Over the years we kept a journal and that are recorded multiple encounters with an Large old man with whiskers a straw hat and coveralls ..a young girl in a white dress and a fellow in his 20's wearing an old timey striped prison out fit....I was in the same room once with a kid who came out of the bathroom and screamed at the top of his lungs as he said he saw the girl sitting in a rocker right across form his door...Adults never saw the apparitions only the kids....but I have no doubt they were real.....

 

[Paul Roerich]

This happened to me only two weeks ago. My first time.

I was alone on the 12th floor of a very old office building (it was a Sunday) and was waiting for the elevator arrive, when I very clearly heard the sound of a child laughing in the hallway behind me. The sound lasted for about five seconds. I turned around and saw nothing. The laughter stopped immediately. I searched up and down the hallway (and put my ear to the solid oak doors of each office, even though very little sound could pass through them to the hallway). Total silence. I really was alone there.


What I already knew was that, many decades earlier, the building's original owner and his family had lived in the building. His young redheaded son (now deceased) had had his own bedroom -- on the 12th floor. I also knew that many workers in this building have reported seeing a redheaded boy run through walls, and more.

 

[Story]

Even though I was hesitant to play into Dad’s dementia, I finally asked him to describe the kid.
AF

FedoraLounge PSA : The current school of thought is to engage in whatever realities Alzheimer's/Dementia patients are entering (recommended reading http://www.amazon.com/The-36-Hour-Day-Alzheimer-Dementing/dp/0446610410 )

"Seeing ghosts" is apparently quite common for those in the final stages of life, whether it's the cascading failure of the brain's synapses or something else. When my mother was well along her final path, there was one night I was visiting at dinnertime where it was more convenient to feed her in the common room, instead of the little group's dining room. Mind you, this place was a well-run old folks' home that took care of their people as best as one could expect.

As I spoon-fed her like one would a three year old, she wrinkled her eyebrows and asked "who are those three guys over there?"

I looked over my shoulder. Yup, just her and I in this room with a movie on the big screen TV.

I played it straight. "Dunno, mom, never saw 'em before in my life. They want anything important?"

She shrugged that off without hesitation and went on gumming her mashed potatoes. I figured the ghosts where there for the Burns & Allen movie.

 

[Story]

When Major John Tulloch retraced the steps of Allied prisoners of war and their infamous 'death march' from 1945, he thought his photographs would bare only a vague resemblance to the tortuous route PoWs took 70 years ago.

The retired army officer had revisited the muddy track in Borneo where thousands of World War Two PoWs trudged to their deaths, only to be given a shocking surprise when he looked back at his images.

Maj Tulloch studied his pictures and found what appeared to be hunched, skeletal ghostly figures marching across his photograph, almost exactly in line with the path they took seven decades ago.

follow the link.
check the pic.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/art...-haunting-image-route-took.html#ixzz27jUAsVKy

 

[Paul Roerich]

follow the link.
check the pic.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/art...-haunting-image-route-took.html#ixzz27jUAsVKy

"'While my guide drove along he put a towel on the dashboard. The towel had a pattern on it and that reflected through the windscreen. I have called it reflections of a death march.'"



[video=youtube;a5-TplqUUiU]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v= a5-TplqUUiU [/video]

 

[Rathdown]

Yup.

 

[AtomicEraTom]

Boy, AF, that one gave me chills!

One night, back in high school, I was studying in our den when I distinctly heard the door to our upstairs bedroom open...and close...and footsteps start down the stairs. At first, I thought it was my father. But then I heard Dad’s voice from the kitchen where he was helping Mom with the dishes. I jumped up and told my parents that someone was in the house and was, right then, climbing up and down the stairs. Dad fetched his pistol and we searched the entire place…every room, every closet, even the attic. But only the three of us were there. I guess lacking any better explanation, my father told me it was probably our cat climbing the den’s window screen.

Four or five years later, my father and I came home one cold winter evening to find Mom shivering on the sidewalk across the street from our house. She was in her bedroom shoes and was wearing only jeans and a thin shirt. She told us a burglar was in the house and our neighbor was calling the police. She said she had been in the den and had heard an upstairs bedroom door open and loud footsteps start down the stairs. She knew that Dad and I were at the airport, so she had run to the neighbor’s house. Just then, the police arrived and searched the house from top to bottom. There was no burglar. And, by then, our screen climbing cat was in the kitty after life.

Two years ago, my father lay dying in the den. I had put a hospital bed there for him because the tumors in his legs prevented him from climbing the stairs to his bedroom. One day, he began asking where “the boy” had gone. At first, I paid no attention to him because I thought “the boy” was another hallucination brought on by his pain medications. But as the weeks passed, Dad continued to insist that a young boy was visiting him, sometimes several times a day. Even though I was hesitant to play into Dad’s dementia, I finally asked him to describe the kid. Dad said he didn’t know the boy’s name but he was about twelve or thirteen and he had always lived in our house. He said the boy lived upstairs. In fact, my father seemed genuinely baffled that I had never met the boy. I assured Dad that I didn’t know of any children who had lived in our house since 1962…other than me…and that I doubted any were there now. Insisting that I meet the boy, dad asked me to sit quietly with him for a while. He was sure the boy wouldn’t be gone long. He smiled and said that we’d know when the boy was coming to visit because, though he was small, he sounded like a two-hundred pound man walking down our stairs.

AF

So, at my place, we have what's referred to at the 'haunted chair.' Just an old orange, 70's lazy boy. I never sit in it, because it just makes me uneasy, like I'm not welcome to, so I sit in the one to the right of it.

Well, I got home one day from work and saw my cats had no food or water, so I set my lunch pail down on said chair and went to feed them. The chair started making this horrible groaning noise as soon as I walked away. I ran back over and pulled my lunch pail off and set it on the other chair.

I had a friend over one day and he went to sit down in the chair and a little while after, the foot rest flew up faster than anybody could ever make it recline! Couldn't explain that one, either.

 

[AmateisGal]

Boy, AF, that one gave me chills!



So, at my place, we have what's referred to at the 'haunted chair.' Just an old orange, 70's lazy boy. I never sit in it, because it just makes me uneasy, like I'm not welcome to, so I sit in the one to the right of it.

Well, I got home one day from work and saw my cats had no food or water, so I set my lunch pail down on said chair and went to feed them. The chair started making this horrible groaning noise as soon as I walked away. I ran back over and pulled my lunch pail off and set it on the other chair.

I had a friend over one day and he went to sit down in the chair and a little while after, the foot rest flew up faster than anybody could ever make it recline! Couldn't explain that one, either.

Ack!!! Creepy!

 

[AtomicEraTom]

It is! All's I can figure is that was somebody's favorite chair once upon a time. Sometimes it rocks on its own, too, so I've got it way tight up against the wall, so it can't move lol

Ack!!! Creepy!

 

[Jaguar66]

Back in 1986, when my little neighborhood was being built, a murder was committed on what would later become my property. Some drug dealers killed a snitch, decapitated him and threw his head into the river. Of course, I knew about the murder when I was negotiating to purchase my house in 1998...heck, everyone in our community knows about it...but I really loved the place and I wanted a home on the water...so I bought the house anyway.

Since then, a few strange things have happened here that might make even a skeptic puzzle as to whether I share my property with a ghost...but I've never been much concerned about ghosts or ghost stories, so I've paid those happenings little mind.

This past October, I decided to make some Halloween decorations to go on my trees down by the river. When I had finished, my girlfriend Jackie took some photos to send to her family in Milwaukee. Within minutes of e-mailing the photos, we received a message back from Jackie's sister-in-law, telling us that one of the pictures had badly "creeped her out". I was puzzled as to how my silly, plywood eyes could have "creeped out" a fortyish, well-educated nurse like Karen. But then I looked more closely at the picture. Please check out the headless, whispy figure to my left, on the other side of the tree. And understand that Karen...in Wisconsin...knew nothing about the events that took place on my property in 1986.

AF

I am assuming you are referring to the shape to the left of the tree, which I have circled. If you look above this figure there is a headless monkey.

Plus when enhancing other aspects of the picture there is a haunting shape in the woods across the river, under the first spooky eyes.

 

[herringbonekid]

i'm a supernatural sceptic of the highest order. nevertheless, i can't wait for my first 'ghost' encounter to change my mind.

 

[Story]

i'm a supernatural sceptic of the highest order. nevertheless, i can't wait for my first 'ghost' encounter to change my mind.

Be careful what you ask for.

 

[herringbonekid]

Be careful what you ask for.

i had a friend who supposedly had all manner of 'supernatural' experiences (and virtually every day); hearing ghosts speak, feeling spirits in a house, foresight, seeing poltergeist activity, you name it. whenever i was there... nothing. guess i was blocking the energy.

 

[JennieWren]

Probably just my feverish brain but...
I had moved out on my own and was living in a horrible little apartment with second hand furniture (mostly rescued from the trash) and I had caught the flu. I was sick, sick, sick and quite febrile with no one to take care of me. I had already missed a couple of days of work and was worried about missing more and still paying my rent, as well as falling behind on my schoolwork. As I lay in bed that night (all the lights were off) I swear my bedroom door opened (I always kept it closed because at that time I had the world's clingiest cat who while affectionate and lovely would NOT let you sleep if you let her in), a bright light silhouetted my Gramma standing in the doorway looking in on me the way that she used to when I was a little girl and lying in bed at her house on the weekends and she would check if I was asleep yet. Someone spoke indistinctly over her shoulder and she turned and said something in a low voice to them that I couldn't catch, looked back at me, smiled and closed the door. My Gramma had been my best friend and had passed away from lung cancer five years prior to this incident. I felt warm and safe and loved. When I woke up in the morning I felt lousy but my fever had broken and I made it in to work the next day. I was febrile, so I could have been hallucinating, but I like to believe that Gramma was looking in on me.

 

[JennieWren]

I've run a lot of codes. It's my job (crit care nurse), and usually we can bring them back. All of the instruments that we have to measure them say that they are dead, but then they come back. Not one has described and OBE or a bright light to me, though, and I'm usually one of the first people they see when they come back. Some of them come back with no sequelae, some come back with a lot of issues. I think that we are not really very good at understanding the difference between "mostly dead" and "truly dead" are yet, other than if you stay mostly dead for long enough you end up pretty good and expired. I have thought that I've seen something out of the corner of my eye sometimes at the end of the hall on nightshift, but seeing as we run about a code a day on my floor, sometimes more, I'm not sure that it means anything other than I'm over-tired. But if I were a ghost the last place I would want to stick around would be my work, I'd go somewhere where there were no call bells and people running all the time.

I do honestly think there are "spirits", souls, of people that "hang around" in our dimension after they have died.

Studies (not the ones showcased by idiotic television series for mere entertainment purposes) but real studies have been done, in some rather strict scientific conditions, as to what happens when a person actually dies. Stanford Medical University once was deeply involved with finding what they could about a "physical" element or existence of what we commonly call our spirit.

They had a few volunteer patients that allowed being placed into a sealed container at the death moment. The container was being monitored by many instruments, including an "atomic scale" that would have registered the very smallest amount of weight change. It was found in some conclusion that within a day or so, the human body weighs less. The study takes into consideration that water we retain may disperse however it would still be in the container and have the same overall weight. The question and maybe some answers they had been seeking is, what was the "weight" of the soul? What may the soul be made of? Electronic information imprinted within a human and the mind, that when it would leave the body at death, travel to some other dimension? Although there is no total proof to conclude a fact finding truth, they did have some facts that are without question. The human body houses information (perhaps in a very similar way a computer has programs installed), and that there may be in part, an unknown "thing" we could call a soul that is connected to this program ( our memory, etc.) and that what ever it is, leave the body and goes some place we have no idea of where it went, scientifically of course.

We read of many things that are on the brink of showing there is some truth to people being dead briefly and having what is called, out of body experiences. If one could travel "out of body" and observe, and recall, it had to be placed into the memory of that same "item" the researchers at Stanford were dealing with.

What we know is so very limited to date. Humans are still learning more and more all the time. Maybe some time soon, we will have some really good facts to know the entire story.

 

[JennieWren]

My grandfather worked in a morgue as an assistant in the 1950s in TN. He got night-shift and was working with a very superstitious man from Louisiana. Well one weekend my granddad was out of town and the other gent' had the place to himself... he was cleaning up and decided to lay out the corpse of a man who'd been thrown from his horse when out riding. He started to open the drawer (where they kept bodies 'till embalming) and his hand was instantly SEIZED BY THE HAND OF THE MAN INSIDE!!!!! The guy from Louisiana took off and a few hours later the undertaker came in to see an exhausted but very much ALIVE man inside the drawer! Apparently medicine then wasn't what it is now, and the man had been in a pretty bad coma... needless to say the gent' from Louisiana never came back!

Aaah! First time I had to wrap a body and I turned her and she groaned I just about pissed myself. I had to put a stethoscope on her chest for a good two minutes to convince myself that she was really dead!

 

[Dixon Cannon]

I bought this little gem whilst on holiday in Yorkshire in the mid-80's. It is in amazingly great condition all these twenty-eight years later. Methinks I shall peruse a few before retiring! -dixon cannon

 

[Dixon Cannon]

I've run a lot of codes. It's my job (crit care nurse), and usually we can bring them back. All of the instruments that we have to measure them say that they are dead, but then they come back. Not one has described and OBE or a bright light to me, though, and I'm usually one of the first people they see when they come back. Some of them come back with no sequelae, some come back with a lot of issues. I think that we are not really very good at understanding the difference between "mostly dead" and "truly dead" are yet, other than if you stay mostly dead for long enough you end up pretty good and expired. I have thought that I've seen something out of the corner of my eye sometimes at the end of the hall on nightshift, but seeing as we run about a code a day on my floor, sometimes more, I'm not sure that it means anything other than I'm over-tired. But if I were a ghost the last place I would want to stick around would be my work, I'd go somewhere where there were no call bells and people running all the time.[/SIZE]

A great NDE story is 'Saved By The Light' by Dannion Brinkley. If nothing more, his "experience" changed his personality for the better. -dixon cannon