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I grew up in a town in SC, along the Conagree River in Columbia. Along the river after the Gervais St bridge, there is a set of old locks, called the Granby Locks. Along the trail we used as kids to get there, you passed an old cemetery, remains of obviously old houses, ect. The cemetery has Revolutionary War, Civil War and graves dating back to the family that founded the city. There is an old marker noting that General George Washington visited the Granby Family for their contributions to the war. Well, as time went by, the cemetery went unkempt, and grave stones had fallen over, ect. One summer, the city came through and cleaned the place up pretty good, weeded the place and mowed the grass around it. I even made charcoal markings out of some of the graves. Well, during that summer, we would go swimming and jump off the Locks into the Congaree and other swimming holes along the river....but the only way back was to either walk through brush, or to walk that old trail with that freshly cleaned, creepy graveyard. One night after fishing late alone, I walked home with tackle box and pole, and a old Jansport bookbag down that trail. It was only a little over a mile or so long from where I had been fishing and it basically ended 50 yards from my house and I'd done it hundreds of times before so I wasn't particularly worried about anything. Well, as I walked past the Locks and beside the graveyard, nervousness and panic just overtook my body and mind. I was paralyzed, I couldn't move, think, or even breath it seemed. All i could do was hear. I heard babies crying. Not just one, multiple babies. I don't know how long I was standing there; seconds, minutes, hours, I don't know. As soon as I snapped to I was standing underneath a doctor putting all these things on my head. My dad says this is what happened: He had a 1967 Chevette, and he was under the carport changing the oil. He heard me coming up through the woods like a bat out of hell and got up from under the car to see what the hell was wrong with me. He said I was white as a ghost, and couldn't put a proper sentence together to save my life. Said I was just mumbling garbage and wouldn't stop pacing around. He went and got my Mother and she insisted I must have fallen and got a concussion. Doc says no signs of a fall, trauma to the head ect. I go home 2 days later, good as new. Years later in college; I hear that during the slavery days, some kook who lived along the river, along that trail, would often discard unwanted slave babies into the outhouses where they would drown and die. When told of that, I relayed the story to my Prof. and he said I wasn't the first one that had told him about hearing crying babies along that part of the river. Haven't been back since. Now I believe the Cayce-West Columbia River Walk runs along beside this same cemetery. Creeps me out just typing this. Dude fuck you, that story gave made my eyes water from fright +1 thats a good one |
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god damnit why am I reading this thread again at this ungodly hour. You guys ever have something happen that was really creepy.. but you feel that by talking about it that could bring whatever it was back or make it worse?  Because threads like this are awesome! I love reading these stories, even if they creep you out like crazy. ............and yes, I do feel that talking about certain things can "bring it back". My sister has some crazy stories, and there's one specific one that whenever she tells, something weird ALWAYS happens during the story. IIRC, the last time she was telling it, a magnet and the paper is was holding literally flew off the fridge door. There was no breeze, no fan, no form of moving air or anything that could have whipped that magnet and paper off the fridge. Weird stuff. I just remembered another one that this reminded me of. It isn't really a big thing, but a weird coincidence at the least. I was doing an internship at this elementary school in Bridgeport. It was near Halloween, and I had a sixth grade class. We were taking turns reading scary stories I wish I could remember what exactly I was reading at the time, but it definitely was the climax of some ghost story, when one of those roll up school blinds suddenly released, and rolled straight up and crashed at the top like they do. No one had touched it. There was stunned silence, then some nervous laughter in the classroom :P I was thinking about it afterwards, wondering if the stories about poltergeists being attached to kids, especially girls around that age, were true, and somehow the emotions in the class (we were all freaked out, but having fun) had or triggered some energy... Or maybe it was a giant coincidence. Good recent additions to the thread, better than mine here :P |
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Alright, I'll throw one in. We had a lot of weird experiences in this house for the first 8-10 years. Then it kind of dried up. The very first thing that happened is the story I will tell.
When I was in 3rd grade my family moved to an old house that my mom had grown up next to. She remembered the old couple that lived there. She used to ride her trike around this little concrete path in the backyard. Anyway, lots of fond memories for Mom. When the old woman passed away in the house my Mom started talking about whether it might come on the market. She had always loved the place and thought maybe the old man would sell and move away or to a retirement home or something. Well he didn't, he stayed and lived a few more years and then he died there. The old couple's children did not live in the state anymore and put the place on the market. Long story short, they wanted too much money at first and had no takers, they contacted my parents with an unbelievable offer after a year or so of the house sitting vacant. My folks took it and we moved. Now this home was almost 80 years old back then and its over 100 years old now. Needless to say, it needed some work. My folks asked family and friends to help out in the beginning so we could move in. My aunt had come over to help paint and brought my cousin. He was 3 years old at the time and about a year younger than my little brother. I was old enough to be helping out with the work so I was downstairs but my brother and cousin were upstairs playing with a basket of toys. They are running around like monkeys up there, making noise and dicking around. Anyway, my Mom is making lunch and calls everyone to eat. My little brother comes down but not my cousin. A few minutes go by and we hear a scream from upstairs and then sobbing. Everyone kind of looks at one another and go running to see what happened. I kind of thought he fell down or something, he was only 3. So my aunt is holding him and he is screaming bloody murder. She gets him calmed down enough to talk and is wiping his face with a cloth and sees a mark. She asks what happened and he says he was playing upstairs and an old lady walked into the room and slapped him across the face. You could see the palm print on his little face for an hour after it happened. |
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On the name thing. I've experienced this, more than once. I've done some research and it seems to be a common thing especially when close to sleep, either waking or going to. Most dismiss it as a psychological phenomena. The phenomena is I believe called "hypnagogic" hallucinations, and/or "sleep paralysis." It is basically a half asleep dream often combined with the paralysis that happens when you are sleeping. It probably is a valid explanation for some things, but who knows. As to the previous post... I hope you tell us more, that is definitely freaky. Was the old woman pissed because he was in her house? Was she correcting him for goofing off when his mother called him for lunch?? :O :P |
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Scariest thing that ever happened to me, was on a road trip. My friends and I were driving around looking for a place to set up camp for the night, and we stumbled on "Marl City" somewhere in Eastern Ohio. It was literally abandoned, an actual dead town. Near Rushsylvania Ohio, we found a very old cemetery (like graves from the late 1700's and stuff.) So my girlfriend at the time decides she wants to do some sketching on the stones, and next to the cemetery was a good field for camping for the night (there was literally nothing around it and it was in the middle of nowhere.) So we get to setting up camp as the sun was setting, and she started doing "rubbings" on paper of the tomb stones. Well, the sun more or less set, and no sooner she comes screaming over that "a man" was in the cemetery. At the time I was carrying a GLOCK17, but as a stupid idiot did not have a flashlight. But the light from the camp fire was doing an ok job of making the path and cemetery at least navigable. I got up to the destroyed wooden fence that surrounded the small grave yard, and saw a pair of yellow eyes staring back at me. At first it scared the shit out of me, but then I realized it was likely an animal. I picked up a stone and threw it, but it didn't move. It looked like it was on top of a grave stone. So I walked towards it. I had to come at it from an angle (blading? :P) to keep the fire light on it so the eyes would disappear in my shadow. But as I got about 15 feet from it, I realized it was NOT an animal on a grave stone, it was something peering OVER the grave stone. And no sooner had I come up on it, it rose from it's position and the eyes then became my height then taller. I could make out a very thin silhouette, it reminded me of one of a stick puppet, and maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me but it looked damn near 7 foot tall. I completely forgot I had a gun in my hand, turned, screamed "FUCK" as loud as I could and ran back to camp and DOVE behind a cooler and watched the cemetery. Everyone was pretty freaked out, but they didn't want to leave. I ended up sleeping in the car (though I spent most of the night staring towards the grave yard from the back of the SUV.) I still occasionally have night mares about it. I live just outside Rushsylvania. Which cemetery was this? I THINK it was off Highway 57, down a dirt path through some woods that opens into a field. It was 10 years or more ago, so my memory is hazy, especially since we were just driving with no actual destination. The only names I know are the city you're by, and I saw something on a map that said "Marl City" but there was nothing really there. County Road 57 West of 68 has a long-known haunt. Might have been out there. I have never heard of Marl City, but I'll check with some old-timers I know. |
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Hi I'm Flecktarn, longtime reader first time poster. Ive got a few stories to tell.
First ones from a trip I took to Gettysburg a few years back. I stayed in the Cashtown Inn, a few miles from the actual town and battlefields. The building served as the Confederate HQ during the battle. Anyway I stayed up in the top room, named the General Lee room. This room pretty much was the attic which had been turned into a room. The first night I had to stay on a fold out couch with my brother because the regular bed was already occupied. After about 30 minutes of lying there I heard what sounded like a cannon go off somewhere on the property, that was just cool. Later my feet started to feel as if a breeze was going past them every few minutes. That made me freak out a bit. But the strangest experience was the fact that my hair was being played with throughout the night. At the time I sort of had long hair and later found out that one of the spirits was an army nurse, must have been her. The next day I discovered that the basement also served as a field hospital where many soldiers died. That's really my only good ghost story the rest I'm gonna tell are just sort of weird. The next two take place near my house: One night many years ago I was with my dad, my brother and my sister. I was sitting in the front passenger seat, we were about two minutes from getting home and we were driving along a road right next to a reservoir, the area we live in is on the edge of town and is completely covered in forest. We had the sun roof open and I was looking up through it when all of a sudden a large object flew by, it was really weird. I remember lots of lights all over it, multi colored and shaped as if they were on an circular object. To this day I have no idea what it was. About 3 years ago I decided to put some flooring down in my attic to make space for a few things I didn't want my new dog to get to, he had already chewed up some important stuff. I already had a few boards up there and started to work, eventually I got enough wood up there to get everything I needed up there and finished for the night. I went to bed as usual. A few minutes later a strange thud sound happened right over my bed, I thought it was just the house settling after a few modifications had been made and payed no attention to it. Ever since I did the changes up there this sound has been occurring almost every night at one point or another right over my bed. I'm not sure what it is, but I later found out that the original owner of the house died somewhere inside. The last story comes from one my mom told me that happened to her when she was little. For my entire life my mom has sort of been into the psychic stuff, not like palm reading and communicating with spirits, but more along the lines of "I was thinking about a friend who I haven't talked with in years today and he called me out of the blue to say high" stuff. Anyway she said this has been happening to her since she was little. So the story goes one night she went to bed as usual and had a dream of strange black rings floating all over, she was woken up in the morning by either my grandma or my great grandma. She said something like "honey something bad has happened" and the first thing my mom said was "Aunt someone or another died". It turned out she did and my mom for some strange reason already knew. Just some odd stories I have had, I have a few more and I may post them sometime in the future. Hope this brings the thread back to life. PS I have had sleep paralysis a few times and its been both scary and really weird. |
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You just gave me a seizure. Yes, that's Marl City. The cemetary in question is in that area, but I haven't gotten out that way yet. |
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Might as well tell a few more stories.
This one is from one of my mom's boyfriends. Many years ago my mom's boyfriend had went up to Colorado to stay with his friend, keep in mind this was in winter time. In his house he has a long hallway leading from his front door, it pretty much is as long as the house. Anyway every night, they would be watching tv in the living room with a good view of the hallway from where they were sitting. At one point during the night my mom's boyfriend saw a figure walk right through the the hallway, pay no attention to him or his friend and continue walking. He asked him about it and he said that his house was build on some sort of old trail and that he acknowledged the ghost and didn't bother it. Well the next day they had parked a truck in front of the house, essentially blocking the walkway. Since it had snowed they could see all of their tracks. Well sometime during the day they returned to get in the truck, except that it had moved a few feet up the street. They had discovered tracks that started from nowhere, lead to the truck, and some how managed to push the truck up the street in order to follow this old track. This story comes from my Uncle who lives in Australia. I forgot the name of the harbor but it was a famous prison colony during the time the British first colonized Australia. Anyway this place is a huge tourist attraction now and my aunt and uncle decided to visit it. On their way home they were driving up a mountainside during the evening, when all of a sudden a ghostly figure walked across the road, he was dressed in an older style prison uniform and just stared at them then continued to walk. Apparently this ghost walks for miles and can be seen at this harbor, and a far off town as well as the trail in between. Now this last notable story is a bit hazy but happened to me years and years ago when I was really little. When I was little I had this cool 4 wheel riding thing, it came with a small track that would bob up and down and then end. I use to set it up on my front deck of my house. This deck was outside my living room and would look over my property facing down towards my neighbors house with a small patch of woods in between. You could see the far off hills and the sunset, it was, and still is really nice. Anyway from what I can remember one day, towards sundown I was playing on this 4 wheeler by myself outside like I had done many times before when all of a sudden I just seemed to have froze, I couldn't move like something had paralyzed my body completely. I was frozen on this 4 wheeler and was looking up at the sky. Then this strange voice said only one thing to me "be nice to your brother". And that was it, after I unfroze and kind of just went inside. After that I really stopped playing on that deck. I still think about it to this day, I know it happened but every time I think about it it seems like some strange dream. I heeded the voice and have generally been on good relations with my brother ever since. |
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Quoted: I forgot the name of the harbor but it was a famous prison colony during the time the British first colonized Australia. Anyway this place is a huge tourist attraction now and my aunt and uncle decided to visit it. On their way home they were driving up a mountainside during the evening, when all of a sudden a ghostly figure walked across the road, he was dressed in an older style prison uniform and just stared at them then continued to walk. Apparently this ghost walks for miles and can be seen at this harbor, and a far off town as well as the trail in between. Botany Bay, by any chance? 
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Might as well tell a few more stories. This one is from one of my mom's boyfriends. Many years ago my mom's boyfriend had went up to Colorado to stay with his friend, keep in mind this was in winter time. In his house he has a long hallway leading from his front door, it pretty much is as long as the house. Anyway every night, they would be watching tv in the living room with a good view of the hallway from where they were sitting. At one point during the night my mom's boyfriend saw a figure walk right through the the hallway, pay no attention to him or his friend and continue walking. He asked him about it and he said that his house was build on some sort of old trail and that he acknowledged the ghost and didn't bother it. Well the next day they had parked a truck in front of the house, essentially blocking the walkway. Since it had snowed they could see all of their tracks. Well sometime during the day they returned to get in the truck, except that it had moved a few feet up the street. They had discovered tracks that started from nowhere, lead to the truck, and some how managed to push the truck up the street in order to follow this old track. This story comes from my Uncle who lives in Australia. I forgot the name of the harbor but it was a famous prison colony during the time the British first colonized Australia. Anyway this place is a huge tourist attraction now and my aunt and uncle decided to visit it. On their way home they were driving up a mountainside during the evening, when all of a sudden a ghostly figure walked across the road, he was dressed in an older style prison uniform and just stared at them then continued to walk. Apparently this ghost walks for miles and can be seen at this harbor, and a far off town as well as the trail in between. Now this last notable story is a bit hazy but happened to me years and years ago when I was really little. When I was little I had this cool 4 wheel riding thing, it came with a small track that would bob up and down and then end. I use to set it up on my front deck of my house. This deck was outside my living room and would look over my property facing down towards my neighbors house with a small patch of woods in between. You could see the far off hills and the sunset, it was, and still is really nice. Anyway from what I can remember one day, towards sundown I was playing on this 4 wheeler by myself outside like I had done many times before when all of a sudden I just seemed to have froze, I couldn't move like something had paralyzed my body completely. I was frozen on this 4 wheeler and was looking up at the sky. Then this strange voice said only one thing to me "be nice to your brother". And that was it, after I unfroze and kind of just went inside. After that I really stopped playing on that deck. I still think about it to this day, I know it happened but every time I think about it it seems like some strange dream. I heeded the voice and have generally been on good relations with my brother ever since. Have you been nice to your brother ever since? |
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I forgot the name of the harbor but it was a famous prison colony during the time the British first colonized Australia. Anyway this place is a huge tourist attraction now and my aunt and uncle decided to visit it. On their way home they were driving up a mountainside during the evening, when all of a sudden a ghostly figure walked across the road, he was dressed in an older style prison uniform and just stared at them then continued to walk. Apparently this ghost walks for miles and can be seen at this harbor, and a far off town as well as the trail in between. Botany Bay, by any chance? KHAAAAAAAAN! |
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Quoted: Quoted: Quoted: I forgot the name of the harbor but it was a famous prison colony during the time the British first colonized Australia. Anyway this place is a huge tourist attraction now and my aunt and uncle decided to visit it. On their way home they were driving up a mountainside during the evening, when all of a sudden a ghostly figure walked across the road, he was dressed in an older style prison uniform and just stared at them then continued to walk. Apparently this ghost walks for miles and can be seen at this harbor, and a far off town as well as the trail in between. Botany Bay, by any chance? KHAAAAAAAAN! THIS is Seti Alpha V!!!  |
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Quoted: Seriously, you cannot tell us that you only read to the blue sentence. Quoted: <snip> I was frozen on this 4 wheeler and was looking up at the sky. Then this strange voice said only one thing to me "be nice to your brother". And that was it, after I unfroze and kind of just went inside. After that I really stopped playing on that deck. I still think about it to this day, I know it happened but every time I think about it it seems like some strange dream. I heeded the voice and have generally been on good relations with my brother ever since. Have you been nice to your brother ever since?  |
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When my wife and I moved to Ohio, we lived in a "Huber Home," a one-floor brick ranch. A hallway ran down the center, with our living room on one end and our bedroom on the other. I would often sense something out of the corner of my eye in the hallway. It got to the point where I would sit on the opposite end of the couch or close my bedroom door so I wouldn't see the hallway. A few months go by. My wife and I are in the master bathroom and I ask ask out of the blue, "Have you ever noticed anything in the hallway?" She screamed, "Yes! I thought it was just me, so I didn't want to mention it." The next day we start doing reseach on how to get rid of a ghost. One website we read said to paint the house. Ghosts like familiar surroundings and will get "lost" if you paint. So we painted the hallway that weekend and never noticed anything in the hallway again. |
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I had an experience with the sleep paralysis thing. I hated it and remember it even thought I was maybe 4-6 somewhere in there. Couldn't move, couldn't scream. Black figure talking but I wasn't listening I remember trying to telecommunicate to my dog to get in here and attack it. That's all I remember thinking about, Beau would save me.
My dad died when I was 9 and there shortly there after I had a dream he was sitting in the living room and asked me if I wanted to go with him or stay. I told him I wanted to stay. He told me to make sure I looked out for my mom and sisters and he loved us very much. One time a couple years after that, I fell asleep on the couch one night with the TV on. I woke up and it was off. No big deal my mom probably turned it off and let me sleep. But the light was still on. I get up to turn it off and as I start sitting up it turned it self off. I just said thanks dad and rolled over and went to sleep. This wasn't a light with a wall switch, this was a floor lamp that you had the turn the switch to turn it off. It doesn't really creep me out, it's nice to know he's looking out for me. 
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Awesome thread here, so many good stories! Nothing seriously creepy ever really happened to me. In the spirit of things however, I'll share a couple little incidents that did happen in my life though, as I said, none really too scary or creepy:
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– My mom once told me that a ghost had saved my life when I was an infant. I guess she put me down for a nap one day and went downstairs to do some laundry (and probably make my dad a sammich) and she got an uneasy feeling for some reason. She ignored it for a few minutes, then said she heard a voice right behind her tell her to go check on the baby (infant Mabuz). She said she thought she was just tired and kind of shrugged it off at first and didn't really pay much attention to it, thought it was the wind maybe. But the voice persisted, and she though maybe she'd better check on me. She said she came upstairs, into my room, and I had somehow wiggled under my mattress in the crib and was suffocating, unable to cry or anything. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– When I was about 10 my grandpa (dad's dad) died. My family went to visit grandma the next week to go through and get rid of some of grandpa's things for her, so she wouldn't be reminded of him every day, she took it pretty hard. I never really got to know my grandpa much, my grandparents had my dad when they were in their late 30s or early 40s, so they were both fairly old by the time I came around. Also, I didn't get to spend time with grandpa very often because he was in a home from the time I was born until he passed, due to some things that happened to him in WWII if I remember correctly, that my grandma just couldn't help him with...he had to get one of his legs amputated, and ended up having a stroke some time after. Anyways, I do remember visiting my grandpa in the home, sitting on his lap in his wheelchair, and that he couldn't talk due to his stroke. I was only a little kid at the time, but I really enjoyed visiting him, and could tell how frustrated he would get because he couldn't talk to me (due to the stroke). My brother and I would just sit on his lap, with my dad in a chair beside him, and we'd all just talk to him, and he'd smile and have a good time with us just being there for a while. Well, while we were at grandma's house, cleaning his stuff out, my brother and I were going through some of his hunting stuff and found an old framed picture of him and grandma when they must have been in their late 20s. We thought it was a nice picture, and put it out on the table in the room we were in. As soon as I set it on the table, I swear I saw my grandpa wave at me in that picture. Scared the hell out of me for a second, and as I turned to my brother to ask if he had seen anything weird just now, he asked me if grandpa just waved at us in the picture. –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– About 8 or 10 years ago, my me-ma (mom's mom, not to be confused with grandma above) passed away after a long struggle with some health issues. I was home visiting my parents at the time, and my mom had come into the living room very early in the morning and woke me up on the couch where I was sleeping. She was crying and said she just wanted to tell me that my me-ma stopped by to say she loved us all. I thought she woke up from a weird dream or something and asked her what she meant. She again looked at me and said that me-ma just stopped by to say she loved us all and that she was fine. Not understanding what she meant, and being a little groggy, I leaned over to give her a hug and tried to comfort my mom for a minute, thinking she'd snap out of whatever was going on. About two minutes after she came into the room, the phone rang. I wondered who would be calling us at 0300 or so. I answered the phone and it was my pa-pa calling to tell us that me-ma had just passed away. |
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The story i am about to tell is 100% true, I swear on my mother and my wife's lives this actually happened.
In the summer when I was 12 my friends and I all played on the trains by the Ford plant where explorers are made in Louisville. They were used to haul cars and were always empty. In many summers here we never saw any hobos, I think I know why. Myself, my friends Carly, Jay and Brian were all hanging out and decided to play a game of hide and seek. The only rule was we had to stay on or near the train cars. It was my turn to be it. I count out my 100 and then proceed to walk down the train on the inside. Anyone that has been on one of these car trains know they have a narrow linkage that connects them all together and is pretty easy to walk over, but does require some thought to prevent falling, I was a fat kid, so I wasn't gonna be jumping these. As I am walking I hear noise under the train, right at the linkage. I get down on my hands and knees and peer over the edge and that's when I started to beleive there is shit out there we can't explain and we don't want to learn about. As I look down over the edge of the train car I see a stark white head the size of a persons low to the ground, as it comes into full view I realize I am looking at the top of somethings head. I assume it's one of my buddies but I can't see well as it's dark so I proceed to light them up with my flashlight, one of those mini mag lights that were all the rage then I will never forget this and am getting chills as I type.............. The thing rolled around and looked at me and hissed, and opened it's mouth. The head was covered in white shaggy fur, not smooth like a rats or spiky like a possums This thing had a mouth full of teeth that would put a possum's to shame, and when it opened and hissed I smelled the worst smell I have ever smelled in my life, it was the smell of death and rot. I swear I think I smell it now I never saw anything but this head and mouth, but by guessing at how big the head was this thing was 200 pounds and 6 feet long , not counting the tail if it had one. I jumped up and started screaming and easily jumping from car to car yelling for my friends, I made it all the way to the end of the train and jumped right off. I didn't stop until I was well away from the train yard and under the big light post we used as a base to meetup before we proceeded into the yard. My friends all heard me screaming and assumed it was one of the cops that worked the yard we say on occasion or something. When they got to me I was incoherent and babbling about what i saw. I was terrified so terrified that I never went back to that train yard and wouldn't go back today even if I was armed, I don't know what I saw that night.. I did tell the story once to a bunch of guys at a bar, and one that turned out to live near there said he once saw something that looked exactly like that looking over a privacy fence at him when he was int he backyard at a friends house. |
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When I was 5 my mom's Aunt had died and left her enough money to buy our first house, so her, my sister and I went house shopping. Only one house stood out to me, it had 3 bedrooms on a second floor and the smallest bedroom had a kid sized door in it!!! I found that so awesome and even more awesome when I heard what sounded like 2 little kids in there talking. My mom came into the room and I told her what happened, she said let's go, grabbed me and told my sister it's time to go and this house isn't for us. A little back story on my mom. She moved to Saint Croix when she was in her early 20's I think 22 as her mom and dad had died and her family basically stole everything her dad had worked for. The only one she cared about was this aunt, who always treated her well. My mom had been practicing voodoo her entire time in Saint Croix and when I went back and visited and ran into natives that knew her, I was acoorded a weird respect I didn't understand. A little tiny white voodoo practicioner was TERRIFYING to the natives and she was not one to be trifled with.
Fast forward a few years later, we ended up buying a house a few blocks over from that house and I ended up becoming friends with the kid that lived next door to the house with the kid sized door. One day when I was at his house, I mentioned we almost bought that house which appeared to still be vacant. He said that no one stayed in that house for long because a retarded kid killed his younger brother and sister and hid them in the attic behind the little door uptairs. |
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Quoted: The story i am about to tell is 100% true, I swear on my mother and my wife's lives this actually happened. In the summer when I was 12 my friends and I all played on the trains by the Ford plant where explorers are made in Louisville. They were used to haul cars and were always empty. In many summers here we never saw any hobos, I think I know why. Myself, my friends Carly, Jay and Brian were all hanging out and decided to play a game of hide and seek. The only rule was we had to stay on or near the train cars. It was my turn to be it. I count out my 100 and then proceed to walk down the train on the inside. Anyone that has been on one of these car trains know they have a narrow linkage that connects them all together and is pretty easy to walk over, but does require some thought to prevent falling, I was a fat kid, so I wasn't gonna be jumping these. As I am walking I hear noise under the train, right at the linkage. I get down on my hands and knees and peer over the edge and that's when I started to beleive there is shit out there we can't explain and we don't want to learn about. As I look down over the edge of the train car I see a stark white head the size of a persons low to the ground, as it comes into full view I realize I am looking at the top of somethings head. I assume it's one of my buddies but I can't see well as it's dark so I proceed to light them up with my flashlight, one of those mini mag lights that were all the rage then I will never forget this and am getting chills as I type.............. The thing rolled around and looked at me and hissed, and opened it's mouth. The head was covered in white shaggy fur, not smooth like a rats or spiky like a possums This thing had a mouth full of teeth that would put a possum's to shame, and when it opened and hissed I smelled the worst smell I have ever smelled in my life, it was the smell of death and rot. I swear I think I smell it now I never saw anything but this head and mouth, but by guessing at how big the head was this thing was 200 pounds and 6 feet long , not counting the tail if it had one. I jumped up and started screaming and easily jumping from car to car yelling for my friends, I made it all the way to the end of the train and jumped right off. I didn't stop until I was well away from the train yard and under the big light post we used as a base to meetup before we proceeded into the yard. My friends all heard me screaming and assumed it was one of the cops that worked the yard we say on occasion or something. When they got to me I was incoherent and babbling about what i saw. I was terrified so terrified that I never went back to that train yard and wouldn't go back today even if I was armed, I don't know what I saw that night.. I did tell the story once to a bunch of guys at a bar, and one that turned out to live near there said he once saw something that looked exactly like that looking over a privacy fence at him when he was int he backyard at a friends house. Road trip time! |
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I got a couple stories here's one. Every year we go hunting up in Millerville, Alabama where my inlaws have a cabin. I come from N.H. and spent most of my time outdoors in the woods growing up and don't scare easy. I don't know what it is but those early morning and after dark walks to and from the hunting stands in the Alabama woods spook the shit out of me. There is something different about the woods there I can't put my finger on, I just kind of always felt uneasy.
So this one area we hunt has an old abandoned house on it. My brother in law told me that it was the old Alexander place. He said when he was very little he remembered going there with his dad. I guess they all got to drinking and old man Alexander pulled out a gun and just shot himself through his foot for no damn reason, other than he was bat shit crazy I guess. My father in law and him got the hell out of there and on my first trip hunting up there he showed me the hole in the floor. I guess about 15 or so years later old man Alexander dies. His kids didn't want anything to do with him so he died out there all alone. They didn't find him for a couple months. He got dressed in his Sunday best, layed down on his bed and pulled the trigger. So one year, after I get out of my stand from my morning hunt I decide to make a pit stop over at the old Alexander place. The trail to my stand runs along a creek bottom and is about three miles from the hard top. About two miles from the hardtop on this same trail is the intersection that leads to Alexander's place. It goes for a good mile and is overgrown like a bastard, just enough room to get through with my Honda. I start creeping down there and the house comes into view. Now it's been about five or six years since I 'd been there and the place was decaying fast. I forgot how spookey it was down there. The place is in the bottom of a hollow all overgrown and dark as hell. The house was covered in kudzoo and a big tree had fallen and caved in a large portion of the roof. I shut off my 4-wheeler and right away I'm freaked out by the complete and total lack of noise. No birds or chipmunks, nothing, not a sound. I get to the front door and open it up. The floor is covered in leaves and pine needles from the hole in the roof. Its dark, dank and musty and smells a little of rotting flesh. I reason to myself that theres probably a dead dog under the house or something. The house is pretty small with one room for the kitchen and living room and a single bedroom and bath off to one side. Now at this point my mind is telling me to get the hell out of there but my sense of exploration won't listen to reason. I start poking around and I'm amazed because everything seemed to be just as old man Alexander left it. Granted he'd been gone many years and things where rotting away but it looked like it hadn't been touched. I guess his kids or anyone for that matter hadn't been out there in a very long time. Now you have to understand something about me. I've been an antique collector for years and in particular I collect old pictures and period frames. As I looked around me I see beautiful old family pictures set in very ornate original wooden frames. Three of them are in the bedroom and in perfect condition the others are in the living room where the tree crashed through the roof with portraits ruined but frames intact for the most part. Hmmmmm... So for the next hour I start digging through paper work, reading letters looking in closets and such. I'm totally engrossed and almost unaware of everything around me. I end up in the bedroom and look under the bed and pull out an old box of letters old man Alexander wrote to his wife during the war. So I sit down on the old mattress and start reading for about a half an hour I guess. I'm halfway through this one letter and "BANG" This huge gun report goes off like it's right in the room with me. I could even feel the concision it was so close. Now If anyone has ever felt the effects of a gun shot in a house knows theres a big difference between in the house and right outside the house. This was in the house, and felt like in the bedroom I was in. I pretty much froze for a couple seconds and slightly pissed myself. At first I didn't know if it was my brother in law messing with me or some crazy mountain man shooting. My rifle was on my 4-wheeler outside so if this was the case I was screwed. I took a decisive course of action and ran like a bitch out of there, jumped on my Honda and white knuckled that sucker all the way back to the cabin. I got there and met all the guys and told them the whole story. So of course they immediately wanted to go back there and check it out. We all drove back out there and had a good look around. There was nothing to be seen anywhere. I went back inside with my brother in law. As we where standing in the bedroom he said it was probably the ghost of old man Alexander as he shot and killed himself. So I ended up taking all the pictures with me. I refinished five of them and put old family picture of my own in them and hung them on the walls of our farm house. I didn't destroy any of the original Alexander portraits out of respect and store them in my den. The last portrait is of old man Alexander himself, in a ornate convex glass frame and hangs intact in my foyer. May sound kind of creepy to you but it felt right to me. I think he may approve as well. I haven't been back there since that day and I never will but every time I get out of my stand after dark and ride my 4-wheeler past the Alexander intersection I put the high beams on and pin it all the way back to the cabin. |
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The story i am about to tell is 100% true, I swear on my mother and my wife's lives this actually happened. In the summer when I was 12 my friends and I all played on the trains by the Ford plant where explorers are made in Louisville. They were used to haul cars and were always empty. In many summers here we never saw any hobos, I think I know why. Myself, my friends Carly, Jay and Brian were all hanging out and decided to play a game of hide and seek. The only rule was we had to stay on or near the train cars. It was my turn to be it. I count out my 100 and then proceed to walk down the train on the inside. Anyone that has been on one of these car trains know they have a narrow linkage that connects them all together and is pretty easy to walk over, but does require some thought to prevent falling, I was a fat kid, so I wasn't gonna be jumping these. As I am walking I hear noise under the train, right at the linkage. I get down on my hands and knees and peer over the edge and that's when I started to beleive there is shit out there we can't explain and we don't want to learn about. As I look down over the edge of the train car I see a stark white head the size of a persons low to the ground, as it comes into full view I realize I am looking at the top of somethings head. I assume it's one of my buddies but I can't see well as it's dark so I proceed to light them up with my flashlight, one of those mini mag lights that were all the rage then I will never forget this and am getting chills as I type.............. The thing rolled around and looked at me and hissed, and opened it's mouth. The head was covered in white shaggy fur, not smooth like a rats or spiky like a possums This thing had a mouth full of teeth that would put a possum's to shame, and when it opened and hissed I smelled the worst smell I have ever smelled in my life, it was the smell of death and rot. I swear I think I smell it now I never saw anything but this head and mouth, but by guessing at how big the head was this thing was 200 pounds and 6 feet long , not counting the tail if it had one. I jumped up and started screaming and easily jumping from car to car yelling for my friends, I made it all the way to the end of the train and jumped right off. I didn't stop until I was well away from the train yard and under the big light post we used as a base to meetup before we proceeded into the yard. My friends all heard me screaming and assumed it was one of the cops that worked the yard we say on occasion or something. When they got to me I was incoherent and babbling about what i saw. I was terrified so terrified that I never went back to that train yard and wouldn't go back today even if I was armed, I don't know what I saw that night.. I did tell the story once to a bunch of guys at a bar, and one that turned out to live near there said he once saw something that looked exactly like that looking over a privacy fence at him when he was int he backyard at a friends house. Road trip time! That was my first thought as well. |
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I got a couple stories here's one. Every year we go hunting up in Millerville, Alabama where my inlaws have a cabin. I come from N.H. and spent most of my time outdoors in the woods growing up and don't scare easy. I don't know what it is but those early morning and after dark walks to and from the hunting stands in the Alabama woods spook the shit out of me. There is something different about the woods there I can't put my finger on, I just kind of always felt uneasy. So this one area we hunt has an old abandoned house on it. My brother in law told me that it was the old Alexander place. He said when he was very little he remembered going there with his dad. I guess they all got to drinking and old man Alexander pulled out a gun and just shot himself through his foot for no damn reason, other than he was bat shit crazy I guess. My father in law and him got the hell out of there and on my first trip hunting up there he showed me the hole in the floor. I guess about 15 or so years later old man Alexander dies. His kids didn't want anything to do with him so he died out there all alone. They didn't find him for a couple months. He got dressed in his Sunday best, layed down on his bed and pulled the trigger. So one year, after I get out of my stand from my morning hunt I decide to make a pit stop over at the old Alexander place. The trail to my stand runs along a creek bottom and is about three miles from the hard top. About two miles from the hardtop on this same trail is the intersection that leads to Alexander's place. It goes for a good mile and is overgrown like a bastard, just enough room to get through with my Honda. I start creeping down there and the house comes into view. Now it's been about five or six years since I 'd been there and the place was decaying fast. I forgot how spookey it was down there. The place is in the bottom of a hollow all overgrown and dark as hell. The house was covered in kudzoo and a big tree had fallen and caved in a large portion of the roof. I shut off my 4-wheeler and right away I'm freaked out by the complete and total lack of noise. No birds or chipmunks, nothing, not a sound. I get to the front door and open it up. The floor is covered in leaves and pine needles from the hole in the roof. Its dark, dank and musty and smells a little of rotting flesh. I reason to myself that theres probably a dead dog under the house or something. The house is pretty small with one room for the kitchen and living room and a single bedroom and bath off to one side. Now at this point my mind is telling me to get the hell out of there but my sense of exploration won't listen to reason. I start poking around and I'm amazed because everything seemed to be just as old man Alexander left it. Granted he'd been gone many years and things where rotting away but it looked like it hadn't been touched. I guess his kids or anyone for that matter hadn't been out there in a very long time. Now you have to understand something about me. I've been an antique collector for years and in particular I collect old pictures and period frames. As I looked around me I see beautiful old family pictures set in very ornate original wooden frames. Three of them are in the bedroom and in perfect condition the others are in the living room where the tree crashed through the roof with portraits ruined but frames intact for the most part. Hmmmmm... So for the next hour I start digging through paper work, reading letters looking in closets and such. I'm totally engrossed and almost unaware of everything around me. I end up in the bedroom and look under the bed and pull out an old box of letters old man Alexander wrote to his wife during the war. So I sit down on the old mattress and start reading for about a half an hour I guess. I'm halfway through this one letter and "BANG" This huge gun report goes off like it's right in the room with me. I could even feel the concision it was so close. Now If anyone has ever felt the effects of a gun shot in a house knows theres a big difference between in the house and right outside the house. This was in the house, and felt like in the bedroom I was in. I pretty much froze for a couple seconds and slightly pissed myself. At first I didn't know if it was my brother in law messing with me or some crazy mountain man shooting. My rifle was on my 4-wheeler outside so if this was the case I was screwed. I took a decisive course of action and ran like a bitch out of there, jumped on my Honda and white knuckled that sucker all the way back to the cabin. I got there and met all the guys and told them the whole story. So of course they immediately wanted to go back there and check it out. We all drove back out there and had a good look around. There was nothing to be seen anywhere. I went back inside with my brother in law. As we where standing in the bedroom he said it was probably the ghost of old man Alexander as he shot and killed himself. So I ended up taking all the pictures with me. I refinished five of them and put old family picture of my own in them and hung them on the walls of our farm house. I didn't destroy any of the original Alexander portraits out of respect and store them in my den. The last portrait is of old man Alexander himself, in a ornate convex glass frame and hangs intact in my foyer. May sound kind of creepy to you but it felt right to me. I think he may approve as well. I haven't been back there since that day and I never will but every time I get out of my stand after dark and ride my 4-wheeler past the Alexander intersection I put the high beams on and pin it all the way back to the cabin. Great story, I'd be interested in seeing the pics if you would consider posting them. |
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I got a couple stories here's one. Every year we go hunting up in Millerville, Alabama where my inlaws have a cabin. I come from N.H. and spent most of my time outdoors in the woods growing up and don't scare easy. I don't know what it is but those early morning and after dark walks to and from the hunting stands in the Alabama woods spook the shit out of me. There is something different about the woods there I can't put my finger on, I just kind of always felt uneasy. So this one area we hunt has an old abandoned house on it. My brother in law told me that it was the old Alexander place. He said when he was very little he remembered going there with his dad. I guess they all got to drinking and old man Alexander pulled out a gun and just shot himself through his foot for no damn reason, other than he was bat shit crazy I guess. My father in law and him got the hell out of there and on my first trip hunting up there he showed me the hole in the floor. I guess about 15 or so years later old man Alexander dies. His kids didn't want anything to do with him so he died out there all alone. They didn't find him for a couple months. He got dressed in his Sunday best, layed down on his bed and pulled the trigger. So one year, after I get out of my stand from my morning hunt I decide to make a pit stop over at the old Alexander place. The trail to my stand runs along a creek bottom and is about three miles from the hard top. About two miles from the hardtop on this same trail is the intersection that leads to Alexander's place. It goes for a good mile and is overgrown like a bastard, just enough room to get through with my Honda. I start creeping down there and the house comes into view. Now it's been about five or six years since I 'd been there and the place was decaying fast. I forgot how spookey it was down there. The place is in the bottom of a hollow all overgrown and dark as hell. The house was covered in kudzoo and a big tree had fallen and caved in a large portion of the roof. I shut off my 4-wheeler and right away I'm freaked out by the complete and total lack of noise. No birds or chipmunks, nothing, not a sound. I get to the front door and open it up. The floor is covered in leaves and pine needles from the hole in the roof. Its dark, dank and musty and smells a little of rotting flesh. I reason to myself that theres probably a dead dog under the house or something. The house is pretty small with one room for the kitchen and living room and a single bedroom and bath off to one side. Now at this point my mind is telling me to get the hell out of there but my sense of exploration won't listen to reason. I start poking around and I'm amazed because everything seemed to be just as old man Alexander left it. Granted he'd been gone many years and things where rotting away but it looked like it hadn't been touched. I guess his kids or anyone for that matter hadn't been out there in a very long time. Now you have to understand something about me. I've been an antique collector for years and in particular I collect old pictures and period frames. As I looked around me I see beautiful old family pictures set in very ornate original wooden frames. Three of them are in the bedroom and in perfect condition the others are in the living room where the tree crashed through the roof with portraits ruined but frames intact for the most part. Hmmmmm... So for the next hour I start digging through paper work, reading letters looking in closets and such. I'm totally engrossed and almost unaware of everything around me. I end up in the bedroom and look under the bed and pull out an old box of letters old man Alexander wrote to his wife during the war. So I sit down on the old mattress and start reading for about a half an hour I guess. I'm halfway through this one letter and "BANG" This huge gun report goes off like it's right in the room with me. I could even feel the concision it was so close. Now If anyone has ever felt the effects of a gun shot in a house knows theres a big difference between in the house and right outside the house. This was in the house, and felt like in the bedroom I was in. I pretty much froze for a couple seconds and slightly pissed myself. At first I didn't know if it was my brother in law messing with me or some crazy mountain man shooting. My rifle was on my 4-wheeler outside so if this was the case I was screwed. I took a decisive course of action and ran like a bitch out of there, jumped on my Honda and white knuckled that sucker all the way back to the cabin. I got there and met all the guys and told them the whole story. So of course they immediately wanted to go back there and check it out. We all drove back out there and had a good look around. There was nothing to be seen anywhere. I went back inside with my brother in law. As we where standing in the bedroom he said it was probably the ghost of old man Alexander as he shot and killed himself. So I ended up taking all the pictures with me. I refinished five of them and put old family picture of my own in them and hung them on the walls of our farm house. I didn't destroy any of the original Alexander portraits out of respect and store them in my den. The last portrait is of old man Alexander himself, in a ornate convex glass frame and hangs intact in my foyer. May sound kind of creepy to you but it felt right to me. I think he may approve as well. I haven't been back there since that day and I never will but every time I get out of my stand after dark and ride my 4-wheeler past the Alexander intersection I put the high beams on and pin it all the way back to the cabin. Great story, I'd be interested in seeing the pics if you would consider posting them. agreed |
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Okay, here's my story. I guess It's been long enough that I can type it out without freaking out. This happened a while ago in the fall, so about a two years ago. I love hiking in the fall, it reminds me a lot of hunting with my dad. The tree colors, the cool air, the smells... It's all so much better than any other time of the year. Anyway, I always go hiking alone. I like the time to think, I like to explore whatever catches my eye, and I like to work to my own pace without having to cater to anyone else's timeline or stamina. I always take a pack with plenty of water, a little survival kit, flashlight, tp––the normal outdoor stuff. I also carry a large fixed blade knife on the shoulder strap and a Smith and & Wesson M&P9 on my hip. Yes, it gets me strange looks on the trails sometimes, but those hippies can kiss my ass if they think I'm going to wander around in the mountains unarmed. So it's around the beginning of October and I'm in Salt Lake City. I have a Friday off from work and I decide to re-do a hike I'd done previously in the spring: Bells Canyon near Sandy, Utah. The trail starts down near the entrance to Little Cottonwood canyon but the trail works up a steep, narrow draw nearly to the top of the mountain peek without ever going over into Little Cottonwood itself. Bells canyon is built like a giant chute cut out of brilliant white granite. There's a reservoir near the bottom where most weekend warriors will climb the half mile to have a picnic and then go home. There's also a reservoir at the top, which is the final goal for the serious hiker. Behind the lower reservoir the canyon begins to climb rather sharply with gorgeous, huge granite formations rising to either side. Along the trail up there are a couple waterfalls which bring the more tenacious crowds, but past that you rarely see anybody on the trail, even on the busy weekends. About three and a half miles (and 3000ft) up the canyon it levels out into a bowl with a beautiful little meadow and some aspen groves. This is as far as I'd made it the first time that spring before turning back because I was pooped and out of time. The trail continues up the south side of the bowl for an incredibly steep two-mile, 1500ft gain until you reach the upper reservoir. I hit the trailhead around around 9:30am and began the hike up. The colors were quite breath-taking. The scurb oak was showing various shades of red and orange and the aspen trees were a brilliant shade of yellow. It was a clear day and the sun lit up the leaves all around the canyon. I met a few people on their way down, but never saw anyone ahead or behind me on their way up. I finally reached the bowl area around noon. By that time I was snagging the fine spider-web lines across the trail so I knew where was nobody ahead of me on the trail. I was alone on the mountain and it felt awesome. After wandering around the bowl area and taking some photos, I started on the switchback trail which lead up the bowl's southern side. The switchback eventually led out onto a ridge of smooth granite which fell away to the right into a deeper crease in the draw I was following up. On the opposite side there were areas of rockslide with chunks of the granite ranging from couch size down to basketball. There were sparse areas of aspen and pine throughout the whole area, with intermittent patches of scrub oak. Following the granite ridge up was a stone cold bitch of a hike, the thing kept going up and up. It was like god's own stairmaster. Luckily the scenery helped out and it was quite pleasant to sit on a rock and gaze back down the curving canyon. Eventually the trail peaked over the lip of the bowl and I reached the reservoir. It's quite neat, there's a dam built out of hand-carved chunks of granite on the one end, with the body of water filling the area behind it. Being fall time the reservoir was quite low and there was hardly any water. Unfortunately during the spring when the reservoir would be full the whole area is covered in snow and would make an awkward hike. By the spillway there was an area of old mortar with names and dates which were carved when the dam was built. The names were dated at Sept 1938. So those poor shmucks hiked up the mountain about 70 years ago with all their tools and when they got there they cut, carved, hauled, and placed enough large blocks of stone to build the dam. Wow, my hat's off to them. I explored around a bit more and found another tiny pond off to the side which was still full. It was green with algae, but pretty cool nonetheless. By that time it was getting midway through the afternoon and I only had about four hours of light left in the day, so I decided it was time to go. My legs were pretty tired so I knew it was going to suck on the way down, but at least I wasn't going up anymore. I found a different trail than the one I came up on leading back down from the dam. Although I was eager to get back down I decided to follow it to see if it was better than the one I came up on. As it moved over the lip of the bowl down into steeper area I could see that this one lead across the bottom of the gorge down along several areas of huge granite boulders piled up at the base of the ridges. Not quite as easy, but still pretty neat. I was working across a flow of particularly large boulders when I stopped for a drink and a snack. The boulders where huge, about the size of a kitchen or dumptruck. I had to be careful working my way across them, some parts required a scramble or small jump, with most of it requiring hands and feet. The chucks of rock were large and oddly shaped enough that they left deep black crevices and spaces underneath them. The last thing I wanted to do was slip because anyway you fell would mean something would get broken. The boulder I was on was pretty big and jutted out above the others. I took my pack off and sat down, taking a pull from a water bottle and started in on some sort of energy bar. The mountain ridge to the south was pretty high and steep so it block the afternoon sun where I was sitting. There was still plenty of light but the shadows were growing long and the crevasses all around me under the boulders were now pretty much black. As I'm munching away I hear some sort of rustling sound down from what seems like the boulder below the one I'm sitting on. It's quiet for a few more minutes and then I hear it again. I'm almost done with the energy bar, and I'm thinking 'squirrel,' so I toss the last piece of of the energy bar down onto the boulder below mine. I watch it for a minute while I take a drink of water, but the sound doesn't come back and the bit of energy bar just sits there. Oh well. I shove everything back into the pack and zip it up. I'm just about to swing it around on my back when I glance down and my heart almost stops. A pale white arm, a human arm, thin and grimy reaches up out of the crevice and snatches the chunk of energy bar and disappears back into the blackness. I think I shouted something like "WHAT THE F*CK!!!" or "F*CK ME!!!" at the top of my lungs, and my M&P9 suddenly appeared in my hands. I threw the pack on and adrenaline is like spewing out of my eyeballs. I do remember hearing a weird 'chuffing' or breathing sound a coming up underneath me couple times as I did a mad scramble to get off those damn rocks. In my mind's eye I kept seeing a bony white hand reaching up and snagging my arm or leg or something. I knew if I slipped or missed a jump I'd fall into one of those cracks and then that thing whatever it was would have me. When I hit the trail on the other side of the boulder flow I looked back once. For the space of two heartbeats I saw nothing. And then what had looked like a smaller boulder in the middle of the rock flow moved and dropped out of sight behind a larger rock. After that, I was gone. Despite being tired before I practically flew down the canyon. It's probably good I didn't meet anyone on the way down because my gun was in my hand the whole time and I was very, very jumpy. Haven't been up that trail since, and there's no way in hell I'll ever go back up there. I have no idea what that thing was. To this day I can't walk across boulder patches like that when I'm hiking or hunting. I keep seeing that white hand reaching up out of the blackness... |
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I'm pretty sure I saw a jack-o-lantern or will-o-wisp when I was a kid. My grandparents lived on a farm but my grandfather had passed away 2-3 years earlier. It was sometime around 90 or 91 and I was about 10. My mother, father, grandmother and I were standing on the porch of the house circled in blue. The house circled in red wasnt built yet but there was a trailer on the property in its place. I dont think any one lived there year round.
We had all been sitting on the porch in either the porch swing or chairs and watched the sunset talking about how great the weather was and how much my grandfather would have like it. The sun set and as you can imagine it gets pretty dark. The moon was out and the sky was lit up with stars. We had some large flood lights on the house and with the moonlight you coul make out the large landscape features. ie you could see where the pond was to the left of the house and the break in the fields to the right of the house. Where the two fields meet on the right of the house is a drainage area. Both fields slope down and meet in a s a ditch with a line of trees on the banks. Its about 3-4 feet deep and if you were to walk in it, most of the year you'd be up to your ankles in mud. 
So we're all sitting on the front porch, talking and looking up the road. My dad gets a funny look on his face. My mom and I notice it and then look where he's looking. An orange ball somewhere between a grapefruit and basketball in size has come out of the thick tree line at the edge of our property and is moving along the drainage ditch at the pace of a man in full out sprint. It was very bright to look at but not bright enough to be used to see in the dark. It was weaving in and out of the tree line and looked to be about 3 feet off the ground. Whatever it was it didnt make a sound either. It looked like it followed the profile of the ground it was over but it didnt bob like someone carrying it or rattle like it was the headlight of an ATV. There is no way that a person could have run through the area at that pace due to the trees and the mud, especially without making noise. I dont know what it was or whether it was a natural or supernatural phenomenon. I do know the name jack-o-lantern is extremely fitting. ETA: Arfcom is resizing the pic and its hard to make out the boxes. Here's the link to the pic that opens in a new window. |
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So you probably wouldn't do so well on terrain like this? 
This is the south fork of the Yuba river. I usually go here at least once every summer. |
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So you probably wouldn't do so well on terrain like this? http://mw2.google.com/mw-panoramio/photos/medium/11922029.jpg
This is the south fork of the Yuba river. I usually go here at least once every summer. Man, that looks like ankle busting territory. Sure is pretty though. Jim |
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So you probably wouldn't do so well on terrain like this? http://mw2.google.com/mw-panoramio/photos/medium/11922029.jpg
This is the south fork of the Yuba river. I usually go here at least once every summer. Man, that looks like ankle busting territory. Sure is pretty though. Jim It's not too bad. You can definitely hurt yourself if you're not careful though. It's just the first place I thought of when jakjak described the area where he saw what he saw. This is the creature that came to mind. 
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Quoted: He looks........friendly.Quoted: Quoted: Quoted: So you probably wouldn't do so well on terrain like this? http://mw2.google.com/mw-panoramio/photos/medium/11922029.jpg This is the south fork of the Yuba river. I usually go here at least once every summer. Man, that looks like ankle busting territory. Sure is pretty though. Jim It's not too bad. You can definitely hurt yourself if you're not careful though. It's just the first place I thought of when jakjak described the area where he saw what he saw. This is the creature that came to mind. http://img524.imageshack.us/img524/7469/thedescent2512051.jpg |