Screaming Embarrassment...
This might take a while so bear with me…

Years ago, when I was 12 and before I got into the kind of teenage parties mentioned last week, I would often stay over with a couple of mates at a friend who we shall call Nick. Nick’s dad had a big house and would often go away at the weekend, leaving us to do what most kids would do: watch 18 rated films, read porn, nick sips from his dad’s whisky and talk shit about girls we fancied.

Now, Nick’s dad had a very fancy hi-fi system. It even had one of those new CD player thingies until Nick broke it (he read that CDs can be played even when covered with jam, you work out the rest). The hi-fi even had a device called hi-speed dubbing which allowed you to record tapes at fast speeds. Now, if you taped something at high speed and played it back at normal speed, it was slow, deep and spooky. We fucked around for hours doing scary voices, even going off key a little so that we sounded discordant and weird. When it came to listening back to our efforts, we put the tape in and pressed play. And nothing happened.

Power cut. No tape, no lights, no top-loading VCR, no illicit watching of Robocop. Bugger. So we did what any other kid would do in a black-out. We lit candles, constructed a tent like thing in the lounge (the reason why escapes me) and told ghost stories to each other. Smart.

So come 2 o’clock, we’re in a makeshift tent in the lounge, in candle-light and telling more and more gruesome stories. Nick had just come to the end of his tale and was finishing with the immortal line: “And the bodies were never found…!” We were enjoying the shiver of terror down our spines in the silence that followed when from somewhere outside of the tent we heard at an ear-shattering volume:

“YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Followed by a high pitched, girly scream.* It was at this point that I soiled myself for the first time ever.

Turns out that the power had come back on but in our idiot attempts to make the machine work we had stuck it into play and whacked the volume right up. After we had turned every light in the house on, I made my excuses and waddled to the bathroom.

And they never did find the bodies…! Mwa ha ha ha ha!!!



* It had been me screaming like a girl.
(Mr Evian, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 13:06, Reply)

scared the hell out of me
i was always afraid of the dark when i saw little and still sleep with my door ajar. memba when i was about 15, i was told this:
1. Turn your light on and say "Candy Man" 3times infront of a mirror
2. Turn it off and say the same 3 times
3. Turn it back on and say it again 3 times
4. When you turn it off now you should be able to see a figure standing behind you, im guessing candy man.
so i tried this for a joke to see if it worked. my sister was in charge of the light switch while i stood infront of my mirror. i didn't for one minute think that this would work and so i wasn't the least bit scared.
so i did and said what i was supposed to do and when my sis turned the light off for the last time and i don't think i saw a figure of the candy man behind me, my light started to flicker. i chuckled and told my sis to stop messing about cos it's not real anyway, but to my horror she had her hands nowhere near the switch when i looked at her. i scramed and ran like hell out of the room with the light stil flickering.
although i didn't see a "figure" behind me, the whole light flickering by itself thing scared the hell out of me, i honestly thought it was somethoing to do with what id just done and said!
never ever doing anything like that again!
(CathT, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 12:38, Reply)

I've never really had anything 'spooky' happen to me, but my gran has.

It was just after they were married, and she was abroad on her honeymoon with my grandfather and they were staying at some old hotel. Being young, they were more than pleased when an old porter offered to show them around and look after them. She said he was the nicest guy you could ever talk to, really friendly, happy to carry or fetch anything. At the end of the holiday, she begged him for a photograph, as she considered him a friend (and she takes pictures of bloody everything). He insisted he didn't want one taken. My gran took some anyway, much to his protests.

The day they left, my gran decided to help their friend and found the hotel manager. She then proceeded to tell him what a thoughtful, helpful, and important member of their staff she thought the porter was. The manager looked at her for a while, and pointed out there was no one of his description working for them. All their porters were young, and, with all due respect ma'am, they certainly wouldn't be allowed to go fussing around helping two individual guests when there was a busy hotel to run.

Determined to prove her point that they did have a guy like that working for them, as soon as they were back in England, my gran got her photos developed. Only, the ones she took of the old porter guy were simply pictures of the walls, the bed, every jaunty background angle you could imagine. But no porter.

So either it was a ghost, or some tramp who was secretly working for the hotel and was good at dodging pictures.
( Pineapplez, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 12:36, Reply)

Not sure about messing,
but I happen to own a Ouija board which I probably won't ever use. I don't believe they're toys and bought one purely as a centerpiece. On another note I saw a ghost as a child. I vaguely remember it as a black shape on our staircase and it caused me to run into the garden, refusing to come back in until my parents got home. My mother always said there was something about the house and our dog at that time would always bark and growl at the bottom of the stairs at nothing. More recently I had a bizarre experience while using the bathroom. Someone had come upstairs and I assumed they wanted to use the loo or something. Anway, whoever stopped outside briefly then walked away again. On commenting that the bathroom was now free to everyone I got a strange look as noone had even left the living room. I have also caught some anomolies on camera, heard footsteps in our garden at night (with no sign of anyone around) and a female voice saying my name on numerous occasions.
( Shuya Nanahara Sayonara, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 12:23, Reply)

Most Haunted - I scared the boyfriend
with that when it first came on TV.

They showed a stately home with a hidden door...

... and I said, 'it opens onto a secret staircase up a tower, which is haunted by the ghost of a pet monkey which was trapped there when a girl, disappointed in love, sneaked up there to kill herself...

...and the family name is Martin, and they have a coat of arms with a monkey looking in a mirror, and their motto is 'He who looks at Martin's ape, Martin's ape will look at him.''

The boyfriend stared in amazement, gobsmacked at my encyclopaedic knowledge of the history of the ancient but obscure Martin family, which I'd read in a True Ghosties book at about 14.

There's NO way that Degs could've known that in advance, we were told. Yeah.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 12:17, Reply)

Cheating
Back in my student days FHM used to have a page for true stories, and the winner of the best story each month would get a crate of WKD or something. So my friend (who should probably remain nameless) sent in a story about him and his mates messing around with an ouija board. One of them got really scared and went to bed, so they started scratching on his door and making weird noises. They heard a loud crash and a scream, and burst through the door to find that their friend had jumped through his bedroom window in fear, breaking both legs and cutting himself very badly. FHM gave it story of the month, there was even an illustration and my friend won himself a crate of alcopops.

Of course he made the whole thing up.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 11:42, Reply)

Not really the dark side but
A friend of mine is a primary school teacher and apparently one of the class rooms at her school is haunted.

So one day she and one of her colleagues got absolutely pissed and decided to break into the school to hold a seance in that class room. They got about as for as crawling in one of the toilet windows when the alarm goes off. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT RUN!!!

They thought they'd got away with it but they'd forgotten that the whole school is CCTV'd up :)

Wow and these guys are teaching our children????
( Big Ian has stopped changing his sig, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 11:38, Reply)

I have the fear
I run an online RPG, with thievery, orcs and whatnot so beloved of social inadequates such as myself.

Consequently, I frequently deal with the dork side.
(incrediblemonkeydoctor www.rantatsomeone.com - go on, have a rant, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 11:22, Reply)

I had a weird encounter with a spirit the other day.
I shook hands with a 6-foot tall bottle of Pernod.
(David Fishwick Minibus Sales - notmad.co.uk, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 10:44, Reply)

Poor little fox
One night quite a few years ago my brother and I were driving home from a night out and we saw a small fox hobling by the side of the road. We pulled over and after quite a struggle we managed to catch it. The poor little thing had been hit by a car and had a broken leg as well as blood coming out of its nose. We decided to take it home and see what we could do. Bearing in mind it was after midnight, we couldn't really get hold of anyone so we woke up the local vet (this was small village in Devon).

He was obviously pissed off at being woken up at 1.00 am by us so told us that the only thing he could do was to put it down.

Here is where the spooky but comes in. At this point, the fox was back in the boot of my car. The vet gave him the injection, and the fox carried on breathing. He gave him another, and still the little mite wouldn't die. He then gave him a third. The moment the fox stopped breathing the light in the boot of my car went *dink* and went out. 1 minute later it just came back on. Although it was not very scary it was pretty damn spooky.

After that we threw the fox over a hedge.

What do you do with a dead baby fox anyway?
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 10:36, Reply)

When I was a kid,
some friends of mine had a oiuja board. Proper one too with silk and all that crap.
Anyway we started using it and it was just fun questions and stuff, can't really remember what was asked except: "When will my Mum win the lottery?"
It said 2013.

*rubs hands*
(moomin-papa ; folkin class., Mon 24 Apr 2006, 9:42, Reply)

It's all bullshit, really...
...Most Haunted (a UK reality^{using the term loosely} TV show where they paranormally investigate stuff) being the biggest pile of it I have ever encountered.

For example, one of few times I watched it, the Mystery Machine had arrived at some auld haunted hoose with a respectable forest on the property which, by some accounts, was also haunted. Phantom badgers or somesuch. So, night fell and Derek Whatsit, you know, the camp scouser with the bad highlights, was in the house somewhere doing his 'I hear dead people'/scare the crap out of the Blue Peter presenter-type thing.

Meanwhile, another member of the team (who was afraid of the dark - have you noticed that a lot of them are? Quite handy, that) decided to bugger off into the forest with a camcorder. Naturally he was twitchy as fuck, hearing noises in the undergrowth all around him - 'Whassat? WHASSAT? O gawd, I swear there's something over there' etc.

I wished more than anything at the time that I could have been there, right behind him with a loudhaler so just as he was having one of his 'Whassat?' moments I could have hit the trigger and shouted 'YOU'RE IN A LIVING FOREST AT NIGHT, YOU FUCKING CHIMP!', advising him in more normal tones to get a grip and then once he had acquired said grip to fuck off and get a real job. And all this 'orb' stuff? Buy some better camcorders, guys - that'll clear that up.

One last point - have you also noticed how all of Derek's spooks have a scouse accent to some degree when he comes over all possessed?

Utter bollocks, the lot of it - one of the more minor blights on our collective psyche that we have to thank religion for.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 9:34, Reply)

Too many spooky things to relate, so here's just one...
This is part of a very long story which covers about 20 years, but it's the funniest bit so here goes.

I used to work nights in a kids' home where there'd be just two waking staff on, one of each sex.

The male night staff used to try to wind the women up with ghost stories, which I usually laughed off.

However, one night I got into a discussion about occult matters, and I told my male colleague about how Satan was supposed to give freely of material things- you only need ask.

He jokingly asked Satan for a condom, and we laughed and went off on a 'grounds patrol'.
This was about 2am.

Ten minutes later, we went back in by a different door and my colleague stepped on something in the dark. He picked it up. It was a bumbag, and when he opened it about 50 condoms spilled out.

He shrieked so loudly that I don't know how he didn't wake the whole place up.

Turns out that the bumbag had been left in the doorway by a teenager who'd been brought in off the streets, where she'd been given the condoms by outreach social workers.

He didn't take the piss any more, and sadly committed suicide within 2 years.

If you've read this story elsewhere, that'll be me, by the way. And there were squirrels.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 9:27, Reply)

Weird dream
I once had a dream that I was eating a pillow, and when I woke up my giant marshmallow had gone.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 9:24, Reply)

Don't Open That Door!
Okay I'll start this off with a couple of excuses. Firstly, it's not funny, sorry about that, but it is completely true and maybe vaguely interesting. So saying, no one else has ever believed me so why should you lot be any different. Also, as you'll be able to tell at the end, this is not really a ghost story per se but the weird workings of my childish mind and the inability to tell apart dreams and real life. At least I hope so.

So, it started when I was much younger and pretty inconspicuously. I was awakened (at what felt like, to an eight year old) the middle of the night by the noise of someone noisily messing around with pans downstairs in the kitchen. Not exactly spooky but a bit annoying. I listened to the noise for a few moments and when it stopped I thankfully went back to sleep. The next night the same thing happened again, woke up by pans banging together by some inconsiderate parents downstairs, and again the next night and the night after that. I think I let it go on for about a week until I plucked up the courage to ask my parents to maybe, you know, stop being so damn noisy while I was trying to sleep. Fully expecting to be told to sod off, my mother just looked at me funny. She patiently explained that if there was washing up to do after me and my brother had gone to bed they'd leave it as, obviously, putting it away would be noisy enough to wake us up. I must just be dreaming it. Okay then. It was just a dream. A strange one but still just a dream. What was stranger was what happened that night when I went to sleep. Again I was 'woken up' by the same noise, I remember thinking it didn't feel like a dream at the time and when I recalled it in the morning, but I was too young to be sure. The difference was that after listening to the noise of the pans, this time, I heard someone walking around in the kitchen.

The next night exactly the same thing and then, again, the night after that. The only problem was that after the noise of the pans there was more and more walking and with the dawning horror (to a level that I still maintain only children can feel) I realised that the footsteps were heading towards the kitchen door. Over the next month I 'dreamt' this every single night without fail and every night there would be one or two footsteps more to hear before the noises stopped and I could go back to sleep. Only by this time the pan noises would be followed by the footsteps walking from one end of the kitchen to the other and then beginning to climb the stairs. My fear ratcheted up another notch every night as the noise came one step closer to making it to the top. By the time the noises were continuing for so long they were onto the landing I was pleading with my parents to let me sleep in their room, all to no avail. After all it was just a dream. I didn't dare tell them the footsteps were now distinctly heading directly for my bedroom door in case they thought I was truly crazy.

The whole episode lasted about two months in total with the exact same dream, if that's what it was. Those final nights when the footsteps ended right next to my, now firmly closed, door were easily the most terrifying of my life. The last two were the worst. The footsteps reached my door and stopped and the only noise I could hear, by holding my own, was the sound of breathing on the other side. I pretty much screamed the house down that night until my parents burst in to calm me down. The final climactic night, unsurprisingly, raised and answered several questions about the whole incident. I'd not been able to get back to sleep the night before, even when my parents saw how scared I was and let me into their bed, I just lay between them trying to make my heart slow down. As a result I was exhausted and after a pathetically unsuccessful attempt to stay awake all night I 'awoke' to hear the noises begin again.

Picture an eight year old boy, sheets pulled up to his chin ready to engulf his head if need be, whimpering softly in terror as the noise of the pans started in the kitchen, all too soon replaced by the slow, unstoppable footsteps, across the kitchen, up the stairs, onto the landing and heading for his bedroom door. I remember the covers were over my head when the breathing started on the other side of the door. I had no problem hearing it this time as my own breathing had stopped involuntarily and my moans had fallen silent. After a minute that I thought would drive me crazy, waiting for the knock I knew was coming I suddenly felt, finally, that it was just a dream. The reason for this is that the real me would never be brave enough to get up and head for the door. Never be brave enough to confront the thing before it confronted me and never be brave enough to slowly turn the handle with a violently trembling hand. I wrenched the door open and realised a little too late that putting the light on first might have been the clever thing to do. It was pitch black inside my room as well as on the landing so I only caught a brief glimpse of what stood on the other side of the door before I was screaming my lungs out. I'd find out later that I was so loud the neighbours were asking my parents if everything was okay when they saw them the next day. Inside my head I could hear my own voice yammering at me that it was all just a dream and that I shouldn't be frightened. Which makes it slightly odd that my parents found me not in bed but standing at the open door of my bedroom, handle still clamped in a death grip wailing for them to help me.

It took quite a while for them to calm me down but the strange thing is that it was mostly accepted if not forgotten by the next night when I went to sleep. I slept pretty well because I was now sure that it was all a dream. The reason I was sure was because that snatched glimpse of my tormentor was enough to see who it was. That split second sight of the being that was waiting for me on the other side of the door was long enough to see that it was me.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Mon 24 Apr 2006, 9:15, Reply)

Scary for other reasons...

A while ago,my slightly morbid mother and I were having look round a really beautiful deserted church,when we bumped into the kinda maintenance man. He let us have a look inside the church and told us a bit about the history of the place which was cool.

He also told us that Gothy type kids had been hanging about until they started hearing noises in bushes (bearing in mind this place is miles from anything,including any source of light). Word got around about these noises,and eventually a paranormal investigation team turned up to have a poke about. The maintenance guy had gone with them to check nothing fell on them or anything.

Eventually,a noise was heard in a kinda of rickety old shed thing,so one investigator went over for a look about.

He peeked through a crack in the wood.....And when he returned his face was completely white..

Turns out the churchyard had been used as a place for gay blokes to meet up and have sex...

Now if that isnt the dark side I dont know what is...
(Miharu, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 7:25, Reply)

The dark side fucks with us...
Apologies for the length (its fucking huge) but all this is a true story. I fucking swear. It seriously changed my outlook on circumstances like this permanently. I've even included the address of the actual house. So if you feel like it, go get a cup of tea and have a read, if not skip it.

It started with the house.

I had to live in this house. I was recently unencumbered of a young lass I had been living with. In a very short space of time I had to acquire new lodgings for my self and my personal affects. My friend of old times fortunately had room in his house.

The house.

The dwelling in particular was numbered as 13a on Adams terrace and was situated in Aro Valley, A suburb of Wellington, New Zealand. The valley itself was the first placed where European settlers built significant homes some 140 odd years before. All of it’s houses are aged, some decrepit, some protected. Backyards were scrub and thick, knee high under bush leading into forest.

13a was set into the left hand side of the gully, set deep back away from the road by a good twenty five to thirty meters of stairs. Our house, as it was when I moved in, never saw the light of the sun. It was eternally in shadow throughout the year. To say it was damp would be approximate to saying that there is a little bit of rice in Japan. 13a was a house damp to the point of decay. Myself and my housemates would, on a regular basis, find exceedingly large, dead spiders scattered around the house. Spiders would crawl inside our cold abode to end their days, it was their graveyard.

As the days progressed after my arrival I became aware of a background sense of uneasiness within myself. I labeled the feeling as a symptom of my recently terminated relationship, yet when I was outside of the house I felt in no way perturbed by the same vague and somewhat unpleasant feelings I had while in the house. I did however notice the same behaviors in my housemates. The mood was often hushed inside. People were quiet, withdrawn, on edge.

Then I started noticing the regular and constant footfall noises coming from below our house, as if walking up stairs, for the house was split into two levels.

Winter set in. It grew bitterly cold in our mildew pit within the pine trees. One day, being on edge while sitting in the lounge I once again heard the heavy footsteps of our neighbor below, tramping up and down on his stairway.

“Why does he have to be so loud when he’s walking up and down those stairs?” I commented aloud, greatly vexed by the number of times he felt inclined to walk up them of a day, like some insane bee plagued with a wasting mental deficiency.
My friend looked at me from across the sitting room,
“There are no stairs down there bro. They were demolished years ago when the house was split in two.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean no one knows who is walking up and down those stairs that don’t exist anymore.”

A chill came over me as the tale of a previous house mate who had been more than a little too interested in study of the occult was related. While too long to relate here it led to his eventual mental breakdown and subsequent departure from the flat, leaving behind him only a mutilated copy of the King James Bible.

Time wore on and I grew accustomed to the noises from the stairwell that didn’t exist, though it brings chills to remember the noise now. Winter descended like a hellish roller coaster into what can only be described as uberwinter.

I was seated on my own in the lounge, not one of my housemates was at home of the evening. I was reading a book.
The footsteps in the hall started again, they walked up, down, then up again. A small knock at the door disturbed me. I glanced out towards the smoke glass doorway through the hall. No one was illuminated in the porch light. I rested myself back against the wall, noticing the sudden plume of steam from my breath. Then down one end of the hallway, near the door

BANG!

A huge sound, as if a fist was being slammed into the wall. Every hair on my body stood on end!

BANG! BANG BANG!

Coming down the hallway to me faster and faster. I sat paralyzed with a horrible crawling fear! Jesus God What was happening?

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Behind my head I could *feel* the impacts on the wall. The paralysis snapped as I fled in terror though the hallway, daring not look, into my bedroom, slammed the door and played music at an extremely loud volume. The noises stopped or were drowned out by the music.
Sometime later my friend returned home and found me in my chambers still in a perturbed state.

He took one look in my eyes, leant back on the doorframe, and, raising his head slightly from where he had rested it on his chest asked me quite plainly,

“Banging on the walls?”

I nodded furiously in ascension, relieved he had obviously experienced the same. I felt myself clawing my way back to sanity as he related the story of his experience, similar to mine. It did not end there however. This whateverthefuck was not adverse to manifesting in front of groups of people.

Have you ever heard the sound of phantom breathing? I have and it's fucking horrible.

After a night of playing records in our lounge I was in the process of retiring to my quarters of an evening. I had performed my regular evening ablutions and was walking down the cold, dark hallway when I heard my friend call my harshly name from under his breath, almost like a whisper he said

“Get in here now!”

I joined him and his lady companion who were sitting on the couch. They both looked pale and shaken.

“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Quiet, listen!”

Then I heard it.


From directly in front of our faces, not from the ceiling, not from the floorboards and certainly not from any outside source, came the sound of heavy, distinct, dreadfully cold, breathing. It was sound a person might make as they breathed their last.

It was an eerie, disjointed sound, un-natural and uniquely disturbing, seen The 6th Sense? Yeah, just like that. It's freakin me out all over again writting about it. We gazed at each other in pure disbelief, a look that mingled both terror and sheer amazement at what was manifesting before our very eyes and ears. Whatever it was, it was definitely intended for us to hear it. We could feel the tangible presence of something inhabiting the space just in front of our faces.

Something, that was looking back at us
It continued manifesting for maybe a minute, then faded away. We all retired back to our rooms immediately, leaving all the lights on, not trusting our senses in the dark and jumping at the shadows in the corners of the room lest they hold some spiritual vision of unchained malice. For this was the feeling that all these events held, malice. We were unwanted, extremely unwanted.

The months progressed and during the daytimes and in the bar’s of the city we would make light of our haunted house. Then the moments would return in the late evenings. When you were afraid to glance in the mirror for fear of glancing something over your shoulder. When you were surprised by a cat moving through the house. When you heard those echoing footsteps in the hallway again.

Other events happened that were not experienced by me. A friend sleeping in our lounge overnight told us how he felt a presence move through the room, disturbing glasses and cups on the coffee table, walk up to him and tug on the bone pendant hung around his neck. He refused to stay with us in 13a ever again following that incident.

We eventually moved out from 13a in the early spring, we were all of us desperately ill with complaints relating to the overwhelming dampness of the house. One night we returned, to clean the empty house for the new tenants before their arrival. The house stood empty and dead, in a way I’m sure it was happy to be. We entered the dark structure and turned on all the lights. Without our familiar furniture and belongings around, the menace of the house increased one hundred fold. Five minutes cleaning separate rooms was enough to convince both of us that we should stick together. We felt continually watched by the presence we knew existed in the empty rooms of the spider’s death chamber. Eyes watched us from behind the walls, regarding us with an intent that was palpably hostile. We finished our cleaning, moved backwards through the shell, turning off lights one by one, until only the porch light remained. We turned it off, locked the door and moved with haste down to the road below. Forever sealing off the chamber from all but our memories. We never ever have returned to 13a Adams terrace.

That is the end of the stories I have to tell of 13a Adams terrace. Maybe others have more, maybe they don’t, but the details as I have related them to you did in fact happen.

Apparently goths live their now, and they love it. Filthy goths.
(feature_wall, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 6:58, Reply)

I got tha power
I used to mess about with Ouija boards and whatnot. Read peoples' cards, pretend to do Reiki on them (relax, I never took any money for it), this and that, but didn't take it too seriously. However, maybe I woke something up.

I was dating someone who I was quite serious about. Whilst waiting for his call, I discovered he was out with his ex-gf. Immediately, the following occurred:
1) The VCR stopped dead in the midst of recording a movie.
2) The lightbulb above my head made a loud "pop" sound and went dark.

I changed the lightbulb. Turned thoughts to what to do about rat bastage and his ex. New bulb went "pop." Darkness again.

The third lightbulb was good, and life resumed.

The creepiest thing is, I married him anyway - a mistake I later remedied, but still. Let this be a lesson to you. If the actions of your beloved cause you such distress that electricity shoots from your eyeballs, this is a clear indication the arrangement is not in your best interests.
(socialised_medicine quietly returns to Saskatchewan for Lurkfest 2007, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 6:01, Reply)

Fogbat
heres a tip fogbat, if you don't like the question, DON'T REPLY.

There are a lot of people who seem to be enjoying it, so why don't you let them without acting like a spoilt kid who recons the question of the week revolves around them
(Mong goose, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 4:36, Reply)

another
I think i posted this story before, but trust no one remembers it, so I write this fool story up again. I stayed in a haunted inn once and woke up around 4 am having that catalepsy/cacapepsy/canonnessy...whatever... sensation where i couldn't move. however, i was quickly jerked onto my back ( I had been lying on my side) and it felt like someone was sitting on my legs, not my chest. anyway, I bravely opened my eyes because let's face it, I needed a Depends pad I was so scared, and saw nothing. moments later a long green shape materialised in front of me and glided in front of my bed and disappeared in front of the door. When asking my roommate about it later, she said it looked like there was a green mist around my bed all night but didn't want to say anything to me at the time because she knew I would turn inside out and die of fright. also found out that the ghost from our room was a woman who liked to get in bed w/ people. OOOOooooooOOOOOoooo! again, sorry for length
(The 3rd Duchess of Spank, Mon 24 Apr 2006, 4:11, Reply)

eep
you're going to give me nightmares...

im 18 now, but i still get as scared walking around in the dark as i did when i was 8...

can we bring back kittens or something? :)
(quibble, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 20:50, Reply)

there's a bar near where I live

Where if you stare into the barman's face at midnight and say "bloody mary, bloody mary, bloody mary", he gives you a cocktail involving tomato juice.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 20:44, Reply)

3am spirits

I'm often up at 3am, I was this morning eg, and nothing spooky happens.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 20:43, Reply)

Ghosts!
Two things people. Firstly, ghosts don't exist. There are explanations for all those banging noises, bright lights and cold spots. I back up this assumption with one very simple question; what would you do if you were a ghost? Think about it. Therefore any ghostly occurances that don't take place in either a ladies toilet or a gym changing rooms or that go further than 'moaning noises' and maybe the occasional need to clean up 'ectoplasm' with a tissue are bullshit as I'm sure we can all agree.

This I believe makes all the more poigniant the genius of the lyrics to Life by Des'ree. Quote: "I don't want to see a ghost, It's a sight that I fear the most, I'd rather have a piece of toast."

Classic.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sun 23 Apr 2006, 19:11, Reply)

Woooo! Spooky!
"blah blah haunted"
"blah blah ... witch... pagan"
"blah know what I saw... blah"

FUCK OFF, YOU TEDIOUS, BULLSHITTING / CREDIBLE CUNTS!
(fogbat, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 18:16, Reply)

darkness, aaargh!
First time I watched Omen with a group of friends the power went out right at the end (the fear!) One of us elected themselves to go and fiddle with the fuses in the garage while the others all screamed "NO! DON'T GO OUT THERE! YOU'LL BE EATEN AND RAPED IN THAT ORDER!" power back on and all was well again.
Heady days. Length+girth=fun fun fun
(The Mighty Mantrap Mantra Man, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 17:26, Reply)

Pi
***spoiler included for free***

Watching Pi one night and just at the point that the computer becomes self-aware, the DVD player made a noise and the electricity went off on the whole street. A while later it came back on, except for our apartment.

Coincidence? Probably.
(idamonster Reality is something to rise above, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 16:54, Reply)

Flashy flashy
So my 'experience' happened just after I'd been out to the cinema to see 'The exorcism of Emily-Rose'. Although not a particularly scary film, there were moments which were quite creepy, but I was not deeply affected by the film. Anyway, in the film, there are refereces to the time 3am, which is supposedly when spirits are most active, and is the time which the girl in the film (Emily-Rose duh) wakes up by things banging, moving around, general spirit tomfoolery, but of the more sinister type (a force on top of her sinking her into the bed, levetation etc). So imagine my suprise, the night I've seen the film, to be woken up, 3am, on the fucking dot, by my lights violently flashing on and off, and a low, vibrating rumbling noise. I lay there, nearly shitting myself. My computer (next to my bed) started making humming noises, then the screen, in sync with the lights, starts flashing on and off. The street lights outside then go off, the lights and pc stop, and all is silent. I'm left in the darkness, too afraid to move. I finally reach across for my phone, for perhaps, a bit of light. And would you believe it, as soon as I touch the bastard, it runs out of battery. There are so many rational explanations for the goings on that night, powercut, mild earthquake etc etc. But, having the image of a toe-curling, growly-voiced possessed young woman in my head, and being a young woman myself, and all of this happening at 3am on the dot, seriously freaked me out. I get a bit scared when awake at 3am these days.
(Hanargh, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 16:48, Reply)

My Monster
I used to have creature that followed me everywhere.

Many times i woke up at night and it was just there standing in the corner of my room. It was a huge creature, about 8ft, with glowing green eyes.
I was playing in a very heavy industrial/goth band, kinda like nightwish meets skinny puppy, and the band colours were green and black.
Strange thing was, when i quit the band it just dissappeared.

Now i have another band, whenever i am recording in my room i know that he is still there, although now with red eyes... and alot more sinister.
( Aenesis, Sun 23 Apr 2006, 16:46, Reply)