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Author Topic: Ghost Stories: Part Deux  (Read 995 times)

skruddgemire

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Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« on: June 30, 2017, 08:21:05 am »
Since the other Ghost Stories thread is suggesting that I start a new thread...here I am.

I posted this story literally the day before the site went boots-up on us and so it was lost to the aether.

Suggestion, don't drink anything while reading this...spit takes and beverages through the nose aren't healthy for monitors and keyboards.

So without further ado...

We were ghost hunting after work (worked the 3pm-11pm shift) and we hit the biggest hotspot that Keene NH had to offer. The Woodland cemetery by the Sumner Knight chapel.

Now that spot is active because the planners did a major, Poltergeist (the movie) no-no. They moved the headstones of the bodies under the chapel when they built it, but didn't move the bodies. That part is so old that no one contested the decision and so the chapel was built.

Now this was back when my wife was still recovering emotionally from her abusive 18 year marriage (mostly emotional abuse) and as such...her emotional state should have kept her from coming along, but she wanted to be a part of the activity and really needed the company of our friends (our learning coven and surrogate family) and so she went. We jokingly referred to her as "bait" but in reality we warded her, covered her with blessed silver, and anything we could to keep the spirits at bay.

One night it didn't help. She was warded against the spirit world, but not against herself.

We were walking back towards the chapel and we hit a cold patch. Really cold. Like a precursor to Winter on an Autumn day kind of cold which was really odd for NH in the summer. My wife shrank into herself as the feeling of wrongness got really oppressive. I came up behind her and put my hand on her shoulder to see if she was alright.

Unknown to me, she thought that I was ahead of her in the pack and that she and our other female in the group were the last ones in the line. She didn't expect a hand grabbing her from behind.

The scream was loud and the leap from her skin was prodigious. I think she managed to break Olympic records for the standing high jump. When she landed and saw that it was me she started beating me with the log book she was carrying and punctuating each thwack with a "F--- You!"

So everyone turns around and sees 6 foot-2 inch me being beaten half to death by a diminutive woman going "F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!F--- You!" in a rapid staccato matching the timing of the book to arm impacts.

Now so far, apart form the cold and the feeling of wrongness, you're wondering where the paranormal is aren't you? That happened next as my wife got her mouth washed out with soap.

So when we get back to the chapel, the wrongness having been lifted presumably by the good natured laughter (mostly at my expense) my wife starts spitting and coughing. We come close and we can smell good old fashioned 99.44% pure Ivory bar soap. She spit in her hand and it was not just frothy as spit can sometimes get, but sudsy and smelled like soap.

Our friend who had said "What the hell's going on?" started getting a taste in his mouth as well. Not as bad as my wife's, but you could smell it on his breath as well.

Now... There are are no soap makers in Keene. There are no chemical dumping grounds in the area. No chemical plants at all for that matter upwind from the cemetery that would explain this. And even if there were, we were all clustered in a tight grouping and thus should have tasted it ourselves if there were something in the air.

Nope, just my wife and our friend.

Later we tell the story of the wife jumping out of the skin and beating the dickens out of her husband to be. Before we got to the part of the soap in the mouth, her line leader at the plant we all worked at stopped us and asked if she had gotten her mouth washed out with soap. BEFORE we ever mentioned it.

Turns out that this is documented by a number of hunters in the area. It seems that there is a spirit who isn't too dippy on cussing and my wife dropping the f-bomb 30 times a second really annoyed this spirit (suspected to be the ghost of an elderly woman) and our friend getting the milder version was a milder case as "Hell" isn't as bad as f-bomb.

Making this interesting was the fact that days later on another trek back to our favorite haunt, they both got it again. Very mild, so we think it was a warning since my wife put a sailor to shame that night.

So...let's hear them. Funny, serious, spooky...you name it. I love me a good ghost story so let's have a go at it.

Faemon

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #1 on: July 01, 2017, 05:53:07 am »
It seems that there is a spirit who isn't too dippy on cussing and my wife dropping the f-bomb 30 times a second really annoyed this spirit (suspected to be the ghost of an elderly woman) and our friend getting the milder version was a milder case as "Hell" isn't as bad as f-bomb.

Hah! I might have already mentioned Melissa Mohr's History of Swearing as a personally significant reference for the power dynamics of words (although, there was a thesis—that there are profanities if usually given as a sacred thing, opposite obscenities that are never sacred, and workarounds such as euphemisms and expletives—and, didn't seem to know what to do with racial slurs except to mention how they developed but not how that fits the development of language or the thesis.)

This is also as chilling as it is funny because I used to read about witchcraft that can teleport beads or even needles into someone's guts and eventually I was like, pshaw, I'm a witch and can't do that; that doesn't happen! But that ghost though. Whoa. Fortunately it was only soap, but also, ugh eww...soap...Granny Ghost wasn't even your wife's mother! No right?!?


Hrmm...I get recurring dreams about my deceased mother usually between November and February. I read somewhere that might even be a Roman holy calendar thing? Shortly after she died I dreamed of getting a call on my cellphone—Couldn't hear all that well, wherever my mother was, it was raining really hard (so, drink-sporfle Metamythos, but also possibly Roman calendar?) The message was, "Be careful who you let in."

Which, huh, you know...sounds like concerned advice but also a bit freaky?
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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #2 on: July 01, 2017, 09:29:32 am »
So...let's hear them. Funny, serious, spooky...you name it. I love me a good ghost story so let's have a go at it.

When I was 18 my boyfriend at the time committed suicide. He was torn between the occult, his bisexuality and his strict religious upbringing. We had spent many hours talking about magic, satanism and the meaning of the universe. We didn't know about paganism back then and Crowley was considered a devil worshipper. I remember having a book on card reading by him and his parents made me take it out of their house or they would burn it.

Anyway. He committed suicide and I remembered having talks with his minister about suicide. I knew in his parents religion suicide would send you straight to hell and I was so very afraid that was where he'd end up. He was not a bad person, he was just lost. I always felt he didn't belong in this world.

A few days after I woke up early in the morning as it was still dark. I never wake up that early. And I saw him laying next to me. He smiled at me in that soft loving kind of way. I knew he was dead, he shouldn't be there, but I wasn't afraid. I asked him "What are you doing here?" And as I said those words the world came back into focus, I 'woke up' completely and he was gone.
I never saw him after that again but I can feel his presence every now and then. I know he is still with me. I'm sure that 'dream' was meant to comfort me, let me know he was alright.
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Skumring

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #3 on: July 05, 2017, 02:15:45 am »
When I was 18 my boyfriend at the time committed suicide. He was torn between the occult, his bisexuality and his strict religious upbringing. We had spent many hours talking about magic, satanism and the meaning of the universe. We didn't know about paganism back then and Crowley was considered a devil worshipper. I remember having a book on card reading by him and his parents made me take it out of their house or they would burn it.

Anyway. He committed suicide and I remembered having talks with his minister about suicide. I knew in his parents religion suicide would send you straight to hell and I was so very afraid that was where he'd end up. He was not a bad person, he was just lost. I always felt he didn't belong in this world.

A few days after I woke up early in the morning as it was still dark. I never wake up that early. And I saw him laying next to me. He smiled at me in that soft loving kind of way. I knew he was dead, he shouldn't be there, but I wasn't afraid. I asked him "What are you doing here?" And as I said those words the world came back into focus, I 'woke up' completely and he was gone.
I never saw him after that again but I can feel his presence every now and then. I know he is still with me. I'm sure that 'dream' was meant to comfort me, let me know he was alright.

@Vixen, My dad did something very similar with me two weeks to the day after he passed. I was finally able to go back to work that day. I've had other experiences since then and have a much healthier attitude toward death because of that experience and the ones that followed.

As for my own contribution...

So, fun fact, I used to work in a Level 4 Max security prison way back when. I saw plenty of ghosts and such there, heard lots of stuff too; especially at night. I'm also not at all alone in that - which brings us to the story.

The unit I was assigned to at the time consisted of six blocks which were Delta shaped with a thick concrete firewall bisecting them. These blocks each had two levels and were stacked one atop the other; so, 1A and 2A, for example, and then East and West side. There was a wide staircase going from the bottom tier to the upper tier and each side of each block had eight cells on each level. So, the West side would have eight upper cells and eight lower cells and the same setup on the other side of the firewall and a TV on each side.

So, the first day I was assigned to this black they had all eight lower cells on the East side occupied and all the uppers empty, with the West side having the opposite setup. An inmate six months previous had gone and been an idiot and broken the TV by pulling it off the shelf it was on so there was no TV on the East side. Usually this is a problem for whomever has the misfortune of running the block that day because bored inmates understandable get up to mischief and are generally annoying. I had already worked in the booth supervising these guys a few times so they knew my schtick - don't give me a reason to do my job and we'll have a pleasant day. As such, they behaved reasonably well.

My Sgt. though was the bullying type and had no qualms about screwing with his subordinates. So, he talks the night shift Sgt into switching all eight inmates from the West side who have TV to the East side with no TV then schedules me back in there the next day expecting me to have a rotten day.

No such luck for him. A couple came to me first thing and asked about moving the TV and I told them flat out they knew what was going on and why they got moved so they knew that request, while I agreed with them, would go nowhere fast. That was enough for them and they settled into the boredom after that.

So, after breakfast they're all returning and this one guy who was in for 8 - 20 on a drug possession charge asks if he can talk to me about something. He seems genuinely concerned so I let him come over to the sallyport (a portal or vestibule style area with two doors to control the flow of traffic sort of like a loch) area to speak to me privately as I'm figuring he's going to tell me someone got raped the previous night or something and neither of us would want the others hearing him tell me.

So, when he gets over there he asks me flat out if I believe in ghosts.

I had to think about that for a minute but I go along with it, being fully honest, and said yes I did.

He then asks if I'd ever seen any there. To this I again admitted I had and on many occasions.

Now he's obviously frightened and I'm starting to wonder just what happened after I left the previous day because these guys, even the short-timers, don't frighten easily. His eyes dart around for a few seconds and then he relates to me what happened the previous night.

You see, there are multiple head counts throughout the day and night. After I left the night shift officers came in and conducted the first count prior to moving the guys from the West to the East side. In these counts there's always two officers and one goes up while the other goes down and then they switch, confirm their counts with each other and then with the booth officer.

On this night they counted 9 on the East side. The booth officer called no-joy and the yhad to count again, and again their count was 9. They counted a third time and again got 9. The lead on the count got frustrated and shouted some profanity at the booth officer and asked what the count was supposed to be for that side ad the officer told them 8. At this point the lead gets even more frustrated asks, "what about that motherf****** up there" simultaneously pointing as he turns to the cells at the top of the steps - which is now completely empty.

They both noped the **** out of there and over to the other side and then quickly got out of dodge.

So the inmate asks me if I thought that was a ghost those officers counted that night. I told him straight up it most assuredly was. And then I asked him if he wanted to hear something that would freeze his blood that was completely true. He took a few seconds and then agreed. At which point I told him about the history of the block we were on; namely that when it was built it originally housed the state's male Death Row population.

This young man was black by birth but for a few seconds there was decidedly pale. once he calmed down he only had one more question: What did I do whenever I saw a ghost?

To which I replied, completely straight faced; "I keep an eye on them and make sure they don't try to escape.

Those guys never gave me a single problem after the inmate went back and told them what I'd said. Much to the consternation of my Sgt.
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skruddgemire

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #4 on: July 10, 2017, 07:53:57 am »
So, fun fact, I used to work in a Level 4 Max security prison way back when. I saw plenty of ghosts and such there, heard lots of stuff too; especially at night. I'm also not at all alone in that - which brings us to the story.

If there was ever a doubt that you were a prison guard, this line...

Quote
To which I replied, completely straight faced; "I keep an eye on them and make sure they don't try to escape.

...Confirms it ;D

Skumring

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #5 on: July 12, 2017, 02:13:38 am »
If there was ever a doubt that you were a prison guard, this line...

...Confirms it ;D

Lol, wasn't the worst paying gig but nowhere near the experience one expects to have. I doubt I'd ever do it again. However, one wil pick up plenty of stories doing that kind of work. This one was one of maybe a half dozen that are suitable for public consumption after most of a decade in there.
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TheGreenWizard

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #6 on: February 07, 2018, 09:35:23 pm »
So...let's hear them. Funny, serious, spooky...you name it. I love me a good ghost story so let's have a go at it.

I'm certain that seeing ghosts or spirits runs in my family and/or that we each have really keen spirit awareness. Here's my proof.

Story #1:

My mom was in her late teens when this happened. She was at her best friend's house for a party. Before I go on, understand that the house is incredibly old, and large - think of a building that borders between large house, and small mansion. It had a basement with a wine cellar as well that you could access through the inside, and through the outside part of the house. The outside entrance, however, was locked, and blocked by debris, so it was impossible to get through it.

This being a party, someone made a mess, and my mom offered to get the cleaning supplies from the basement. As she went down the basement, she turned on the lights with the switch, and the door closed behind her (door had a spring) rather loudly. When she came across the area for the cleaning supplies, she pulled the drawstring for the light and got the mop and bucket, with her back to said string.

When she turned around, however, she froze, for in front of her was a little girl in a dress, with raven black hair playing with the string who looked about 7 years old. She asked mom if she wanted to play, and mom said she couldn't because she had to clean up. The little girl looked sad, and slowly walked away towards the stairs. When the girl reached the bottom of the staircase, my mom turned off the light using her hand, and blinked.

The girl was gone.

My mom hadn't heard any sounds of footsteps. Didn't hear the door open or close. Nothing. The girl was just gone. Being rightfully creeped out by this, mom ran up those stairs and cleaned up trying to get her mind off the matter. When her friend noticed her being so energetic, she was curious and asked what happened. After relating her story, her friend nodded and told her that the girl she met was one of the ghosts on the property. Apparently, she had died in a fire that had started in the basement wine cellar while playing.

Story #2:

It's high school for me (anywhere between 2004 and 2007), and the club I am a part of decided to go camping at a nearby sculpture park for the weekend. That park is literally in the middle of nowhere and you need to drive for quite a while to access the cabins. We got there eventually, and followed our regularly scheduled agenda of stuff that we wanted to do (lots of environmental programming, and artsy stuff).

We had some time at the end of the day, and we decided we wanted to do a night hike. Our teacher was keen on the idea, and lead us through the forest at night. I've been in the forest at night before, and it's no big deal. After hiking for some time - we saw snakes, lizards, birds, and the stars (GOD they were  gorgeous!), we went back to the cabins.

To access the cabins, however, you need to cross a small wooden footbridge and had to do so in a straight line. I took the last spot, because I wasn't paying attention and was still trying to see the stars above through the canopy. I started walking on the bridge, and stopped halfway, and started to cry for some reason. I felt that there was a presence behind me and that it was scaring/intimidating me. I felt slightly brushes against my neck, and it was unreasonably cold for the summer - think winter cold - that was hot as all hell. Despite that, I didn't cry out or anything out of pure fear.

Someone else had noticed that I had stopped and came up and bumped into me - that got me out of the trance I was in and I was able to move again.

When we got back to the cabins, I got into my sleeping bag, and ran over to the group. We started talking ghost stories, and asked everyone if they had felt anything. No one said so, but later that night, a guy and a girl did - they said it felt like a very dark presence was looking over them but they didn't stop because they knew to get the fuck out of there. After that night, there were no other presences, and I didn't sense anything in the park.

There are a few more stories, but I need to get the heeby jeebies out of me first. Ugh.
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Skumring

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #7 on: February 08, 2018, 12:02:53 am »
I'm certain that seeing ghosts or spirits runs in my family and/or that we each have really keen spirit awareness. Here's my proof.

Not sure if this will count as a ghost story but...

Way back in 2014 I was doing security at a solar panel farm as it was under construction. My usual shift on weekends was 2300 - 1100; a 12 hour shift. I used to park my car facing East toward the gat to make sure if I fell asleep any headlights on incoming vehicles or the sun would wake me. Yeah, I know, but you do what you have to on night shift. To that direction was the road and on the other side was a small pond and beyond that a thin line of trees.

So, one morning at dawn I'm sitting there waiting for a song to end so I can trek to the port a john and relieve myself. Just as the sky brightened enough to make out the silhouettes of the trees I noticed an utterly huge and hulking form as tall as the tallest pine (think at least 60 feet tall) silently walking amongst the trees. I gaped at this thing moving through the trees all the way until it suddenly stopped and turn and stared right at me.

I am not too proud to say I almost lost the need to use the john at that point. I stayed in my car the entire time because I knew, with absolute certainty, that if I so much as opened the door and leaned out I would die horribly as I wouldn't be fast enough to get the door shut again.

It stood there staring at me as the sun rose. As the sun rose, it faded from view. I still stayed in my car until well after sun up just to make sure it was not longer there.

It came back the following dawn again, and one more time after that.

This occurred near Roxboro, NC, just South of South Boston, VA.

I later stumbled across what this was a couple years later while searching for something else. It was a troll. And according to mythology are absolutely lethal to humans. We rarely survive encounters with them.
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Owl

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #8 on: February 08, 2018, 01:38:36 am »

When I was 1 - in 1959 - my father’s parents owned part of the land of Stag’s Leap Winery and what could be called the manor house. My mother was pregnant with one of my sisters.

No one was living in the manor house, and my mother was walking through it one day by herself and felt what she called an angry presence upstairs. She left quickly, and my father’s family (not big on anything that wasn’t absolutely normal) assumed it was her pregnancy talking. But none of them would move in either.

Finally my grandfather had it taken apart and sold bits off - all the polished wood walls and fancy fixtures and such. In the process they found a skeleton in one of the walls, but wouldn’t admit my mother was anything but fanciful.



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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #9 on: February 08, 2018, 03:27:09 am »
I later stumbled across what this was a couple years later while searching for something else. It was a troll. And according to mythology are absolutely lethal to humans. We rarely survive encounters with them.

I've got a ton of ghost stories that I'll come back and share at NOT 1 am, so I can actually sleep haha.

But I wanted to come in and say that this is the coolest dang thing i've read in a long time. Ghosts are neato but what REALLY gets me excited is encounters with the spirits/faeries/youkai/other creatures that aren't the spirits of deceased humans.

Glad you trusted your gut and didn't get out of the car!

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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #10 on: February 08, 2018, 12:33:30 pm »
I've got a ton of ghost stories that I'll come back and share at NOT 1 am, so I can actually sleep haha.

But I wanted to come in and say that this is the coolest dang thing i've read in a long time. Ghosts are neato but what REALLY gets me excited is encounters with the spirits/faeries/youkai/other creatures that aren't the spirits of deceased humans.

Glad you trusted your gut and didn't get out of the car!

I've had a fair number of encounters with such. It's always interesting to be sure.

To all: Would you folks be interested in a thread specifically for encounters like the one I just told you about above; not spirits but "mythological" creatures? If a good number are I'll create a new thread for this so those of us who have can post their stories there instead.
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Re: Ghost Stories: Part Deux
« Reply #11 on: February 08, 2018, 01:52:37 pm »
I've had a fair number of encounters with such. It's always interesting to be sure.

To all: Would you folks be interested in a thread specifically for encounters like the one I just told you about above; not spirits but "mythological" creatures? If a good number are I'll create a new thread for this so those of us who have can post their stories there instead.

Absolutely! TBH my ghost stories are generally non-human creatures so I'd love a thread like that.

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