Ya.....what happened to your sister?????

Guess I should have read page two, you already answered!! OOPS!!!

My mother and I were touring the Peyton Randolph home in Williamsburg. We lagged behind the tour group to admire the furnishings in the master bedroom, that contained some original items. I felt my mom poke me in the back, like she was telling me to get moving and when I turned around to tell her to quit, I realized no one was there. She'd actually gone on ahead with the tour group and I'd been alone in the room for several minutes before being poked in the back. There was no other living soul upstairs but me. Needless to say, I left fairly quickly, although it's cool to think about now.

Also had my dog "visit" me about six months after her death. I saw her walking out from a corner of the room, and it was so vivid and real, but didn't scare me. I was just so surprised!

When I was in college, my apt. seemed to be full of ghosts!! I had a priest come in and bless it after one experience...

I woke up in the middle of the night and air was blowing on me. I always run a fan at night for the noise but never point it at myself, always up towards the ceiling. Anyway, I when I woke up because of the air blowing on my face I looked up and above me their was a blob of blackness holding what looked to be a peice of cardboard, (this is hard to explain) right in the stream of the air from the fan which somehow made the air bounce off the cardboard and blow right in my face. Needless to say I screamed and fell off the bed, hit my elbow on the nightstand and had to get 8 stiches! There was something evil about that spirit, it scared me to death!!

After the priest blessed the house he mentioned that when he walked in for the first time he had an uneasy feeling.

I moved a month later!!

I never believed in ghosts until several years after I married. My wife was very close to her grandfather who had long since passed away. So close in fact that she left right after the wedding ceremony of her first marriage (I’m her second) to care for her dying grandfather. Her grandfather had an antique clock in his home that had been there forever. When he died, the clock stopped working. My wife’s mother became the owner of this clock. According to her family, the first time my wife entered the room where the clock hung on the wall the clock started to work. The clock continued to work as long as she remained visiting with the family. Many years later she married me and told me this story and stories of other unusual incidents. By now, the Family believed it was the grandfather. Of course, having a scientific mind, I did not believe any of these stories.

The first time that I visited her family, we immediately entered the living room where the stopped clock hung on the wall. As we looked up, it began . . . tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock. Needless to say, I was stunned. However, I still did not believe in ghosts.

Since that time we have experienced many unusual occurrences, some of which happened more than once. For example:

- My wife and I were sitting on the sofa in our living room watching TV and a table lamp turned on by
itself. (No timers attached.)

- We were leaving for the weekend around Halloween. Inside our front door (with glass) we hung a pumpkin head figure, the face of which looked out to the street. This figure had blinking lights on the eyes and mouth. When we departed, I triple checked to make sure the switch was turned off. Upon returning home on Sunday evening, we approached the door and noted the pumpkin head grinning and blinking at us.

- An oscillating fan turned on by itself.

Many other unusual happenings have occurred, some of which my wife does not attribute to her grandfather. We have had the usual footsteps in the hallway and a woman’s voice in the foyer, basement, kitchen etc. (Perhaps it is the last owner of our house who died in the living room.)

But the last incident that scared me and caused my wife to have the house blessed involved a pitcher of Kool-Aid. One summer, I was home from the office eating lunch (yea, I’m that close by) with my wife and kids, when I looked over at the counter and noticed something very peculiar. A Tupperware pitcher of Kool-Aid sat on the counter. This pitcher was the kind with a flip top spout, the kind that you pop up to pour. The pop top began to slowly move up and down. I first thought the drink must have gas that was causing the lid to do this. Then the lid opened even higher. “Aw, just the breeze” I said to my wife. So, I walked over and held my hand up to show her that I could feel the breeze. But, all I could feel was dead air. I sat back down and stared at the pitcher. The pop top now began to open all the way to a 90 degree angle. Then it closed. Again the top opened and closed. This repeated for a few minutes until I could not stand it. I closed the lid and put the pitcher in the refrigerator.

I am not one to believe in ghosts but I have no scientific explanation for this event. The drink was not carbonated and a brisk blow would have been needed to open that top. A friend of mine who is a professor of Physics also could not explain how this could happen – absent any gases or wind.

After all of these incidents, you could say I am now open to the possibilities.

My grandpa passed away when I was 7. There was an old hanging grandfather clock at my grandparents house that my grandpa had built. The day he died it stopped working. The Christmas after he died we were all at my Grandmas's house and the clock was off the wall beside a desk with the batteries out since my grandma couldn't get it to work again even with new batteries, anyway it started up all by itself - NO BATTERIES!! I don't remember this since I was so little, but my parents do. Ironicly enough the same day the clock started working again a little girl from accross the street brought over a check she had found behind her house that my grandpa had filled out years earlier that had been lost.....

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ALONE AGAIN

It was a dark and stormy night as I sat alone in the innermost chamber of my mansion. I could hear the grumble of distant thunder, then a creaking sound outside the door, as one of my bodyguards shuffled down the hallway.

The mansion was hundreds of years old, and a score of madmen had lived here before me. Their pain and rage had been absorbed by the walls, and no amount of new paint could conceal the smell of decay.

I was alone. My only child had been sent off to a distant land. My wife was a pale wraith who haunted the stairways at night. Lately, I had heard rumors of a ghoul wandering though the countryside, drooling and gibbering as he feasted on the companions of my youth. Only I could break this spell. Only I could reach out to someone whose blood was still red and warm. I rang the bell, and she appeared in an instant.

“Monica?” I whispered.

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This may come close to being a ghost story. When I was living on the Islands, we occasional went shooting pigeons in the rainforests. Get our 12 gauge shotguns, pack some stuff in sacks and ride on horseback up the dense rainforest clad mountains. On one such trip, we saw a pigeon perched on top of a tree (200 feet away) and were happy that we had game at such an early stage of our trip. There was something different about this one though. It was brown in color compared to the black ones prevalent in that area. It had a streak of black right down the middle of it’s back.

So my brother took an aim and fired! Lo and behold, he missed, which was never heard of since he was a military sniper. So he tried again, and again, and again!! He fired 11 shots but each time the pigeon would look at us and look away as if it was saying “yeah right”. We had heard stories of strange events and the “spirit of the forest” from our parents but we never believed it. Our troubles were not over. Although the place was a well-traversed one, we could not find out way out. Instead of getting out of the forest we somehow kept going into the more dense area.

One the 6th day, by when we were almost exhausted and sick from eating “jungle fruits” we came to a stream. What do we see on one of the rocks in the water? The same pigeon we tried to shoot!! Now this was becoming a bit too eerie. My brother started to shout at the top of his lungs in a language, which I had no clue about and had never heard: for all I thought, he was hallucinating from exhaustions. All of a sudden he stopped in the middle and said “ Ok, if you show us the way, I will never shoot another pigeon in my life”.

So we started to follow the pigeon. It would fly and sit atop a tree and once we got caught up, it would repeat the process. After following it for half a day we finally reached the coastline: 350 miles from our home!!! That was one adventure I would never forget and to this day we have never gone pigeon shooting again.

Man Alien,
that sounds like something out of a movie!!

Quote:

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- We were leaving for the weekend around Halloween. Inside our front door (with glass) we hung a pumpkin head figure, the face of which looked out to the street. This figure had blinking lights on the eyes and mouth. When we departed, I triple checked to make sure the switch was turned off. Upon returning home on Sunday evening, we approached the door and noted the pumpkin head grinning and blinking at us.

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Oh geeze Tin Man! I'm so sorry!!! You see, it's my habbit to break into homes and turn on the pumpkin heads when people aren't home! It's just something I like to do...go figure

Dawnie,

Thank you so much for your confession. Now that I know it was you I am so relieved. I never really wanted to believe in all this ghost stuff.

Silly Tin Man..Don't rest easy yet. I just did the pumpkin thing...the rest were real goblins

Yikes! LLLLooks llllike I'll bbbe up again alllll night. WWWhere's the llllion when yyyou nnneed him?

It's very difficult to go down stairs from a "Subway".
Perhaps you were on an "elevated".

I have two good (and true) stories:
1. My sister was home alone. And she was recording a song from a tape, but she was doing it the 80s way with two tape recorders. She thought she heard someone come home, so she stopped the one that was playing and yelled "who's home?". My dad's voice answered. She went to the living room, and nobody home. no car. no nothing. she went back into her room, and stopped the tape that was recording....the voice was present on the tape. She still has it.
2. I was in the woods looking for bachelor's grove cemetary (in south suburbs of chicago, very famous haunted cemetary). My friends and I were walking down a path, and came to a big pond. On the path were a bunch of pop bottles, beer bottles, etc, just laying around. I was in high school at the time, and what do high school boys do when they see bottles next to a pond? That's right, they throw them in. After they were all thrown in, we continued down the path. Not more than 5 minutes later, we turned around on the path and again walked by the pond. I happen to look at the ground, and the bottles were lined up, in a straight line across the path. I SWEAR they were the same bottles. We were gone no more than 5 minutes, and it was a bright sunny Sunday afternoon. We all took big steps over the bottles (to not touch them at all), and then just took off for the car.

Some one whispered to me once that a man starts seeing ghosts on his 13th day of marrige! I wonder

Scary !


This happened last summer and even though it sounds like an Alfred
Hitchcock tale, it's absolutely true! This guy was on the side of the road
hitchhiking near the reservation. It was a very dark night and in the middle of a
terrible storm. The night was passing and no cars went by. The storm was so
strong he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him. Suddenly, he saw a car coming
towards him and stopped. The guy, without thinking about it, got in the car and
closed the door and then realized that there was nobody behind the wheel! The car
started moving very slowly. The guy looked at the road and saw a curve coming his way.

Scared, he starts to pray, begging for his life. He hasn't come out of his shock when,
just before the car hits the curve, a hand appears thru the window and moves
the wheel. The guy, paralyzed in terror, watched how the hand appeared every time
they approached a curve. The guy, gathering strength, gets out of the car and
runs all the way to the nearest town. Wet and in shock he goes into a bar,
asks for two shots of whiskey, and starts telling everybody about the horrible
experience he just went through.
A silence enveloped the place when everybody realized the guy was
crying and wasn't drunk. About half an hour later two Native Americans walk in to
the same bar and one says to the other, "Look, there's the idiot that got
in the car while we were pushing it!"

That was pretty funny!!!

About 15 years ago one of my 2 nieces was killed in a drunk driving accident. She was 4 years old and had a 2 year old sister. After she died, my 2 year old niece would constantly say she was playing w/ "my Jackie." Even on my wedding day, over a year later, my niece spent the ceremony talking to her "Jackie". She's almost 17 now and swears that there are times that Jackie comes to her.

I was also really close to my Dad and I swear he's appeared to me many times. Usually when I upset or some crisis happening. It seems so real, just like we're having a normal conversation.

I live near Williamsburg and have been to many of those old homes and certain ones just give you a strange feeling. For me, it's the debtor's prison. Just something about it creeps me out and I will never step foot in there again.

The stories about the clocks reminded me of another experience I had a few years ago.

For Christmas 1999, my dad made my family a clock, which we hung over our mantle. I'm really proud of it, and I'm always telling visitors that my dad made it. Anyway, the next July (2000), I was walking through the living room and noticed that the clock had lost time--almost an hour. It was the first time the clock had never been accurate. Later that afternoon, I received a phone call informing me that my dad had been killed in a motorcycle accident. I'm sure it was just coincidence, but the clock has never lost time since.

It's in Colonial Williamsburg (I think near the capital). Very creepy place, for me anyway. The cells were dug into the ground and there are stocks around it. It's called the public gaol. Also, the church there (Burton Parish) has one of the oldest cemetaries in the country. Not a pleasant place to walk thru either. They do a ghost walk around Halloween that I hear is very good but I haven't had a chance to catch it yet.

bump