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I was driving across country with my mom and sister. I was 16, my sister 20, my mom in her 50s. It was late, but we were well rested still and alert. We were driving along an interstate and needed gas and they needed to pee, so we stopped at the only rest stop in ~200 miles. There was a van full of teenagers on some road trip and a small grey compact car, like a Honda Accord or some shit, parked at the pump in front of us. Two men about 17-20 were standing outside the Honda in hoodies, statue fucking still. The teenagers were to our left.
When we got there everything felt wrong. There was a deep and unsettling feeling about the place and we’d not felt that way at any other rest stop. We’d been on the road for days and seen many rest stops at night and had never been afraid until then. My mom and sister went inside and I stayed in the car. I heard the teenagers say they were creeped out and couldn’t get the pump to work and they left in a hurry. I was mostly watching the car in front and the two men who had still not moved at all. Not an inch. They weren’t talking. They weren’t on phones. There was no light anywhere but the dim overhead lights on the gas station awning. They were just fucking standing there, still as stone.
My sister and mom came running back out to the car and when they got in, the two men slowly turned to look at us while not moving or pivoting the rest of their bodies, and I swear to fucking shit, we all saw the same thing – they had eyes dark as pitch and empty. Truly empty. Not black, not reflecting any light at all, just a fucking void.
We. Booked. It. We have not traveled in excess of 100mph before or since, but fuck, that day it was warranted. We drove until we were in the next city before we got out of the car again. And you know the worst fucking thing about it? Not the eyes, not the stillness, not that horrible feeling, not the weirdo in the gas station who kept telling my mom and sister “my mama will like you” over and over while mopping the same spot on the floor with a dry mop and an empty bucket.
It was the fact that we couldn’t find the place on any map. We knew exactly which spot on the interstate to look, and we couldn’t fucking find it on Google maps or any paper map we had. We even asked locals about the creepy gas station out on that stretch of road to confused looks, and “are you sure you weren’t traveling on [highway] and not [interstate]?” We’d traveled on that interstate since and there was. no. rest stop.
I used to work at this radio station in New Mexico that was listed as one of the most haunted places in the state.
It was in an old house that had been converted into offices. The story goes that the last owner of the house made a living by carving gravestones in the basement, and that he’d died while working on one. When the new owners of the building took over, they left the stone where it was. That was a mistake.
I heard stories from some people who worked there back then. Shadowy figures seen in unoccupied rooms. Lights going on and off for no apparent reason. Supposedly, all the activity died down when the stone was moved out of there.
Well, most of it. When I worked there, the outline of the stone was still there on the basement floor, and as I worked the night shift, I saw some weird shit. For starters, the door to the basement was in the break room, and in order to get to the vending machine, you had to walk by the door. Most of the time it was no big deal, but on occasion, I would start to walk past and this terrifying feeling came over me. The hair on my neck and arms stood up, and it was all I could do not to run out of there.
Then one night, I went out into the offices and turned off all the lights. You know…save electricity and what not. I went back into the studio to keep doing my show. A little while later, I walked out and saw that all the lights were back on. There was nobody else in the building.
There was also a couple of times when I watched CD players open and close on their own, which brings me to the freakiest story, told to me by the overnight guy. He was doing his show, playing the new Bon Jovi song off the album, and the lights flickered for a moment. When he looked down at the display on the CD player, it was showing a different track as playing, though the song he’d been playing kept going.
We pulled out the album and looked for the track that was indicated as playing. It was a song called “I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead.”
Years ago two friends and I were camping in fall in a small tent, staggered with two of our heads on one side and one on the other. It was a silent and still night with fog developing in the moist PNW woods.
What sounds like a muffled voice on a cell phone starts coming out from the center of the tent between all our heads. I heard someone keep asking “Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?” My friend asks, “Are you hearing that?” At once we all sit up and start shuffling around in the tent looking for the phone. There is no phone in the tent.
I look to my friend on the other side of the tent and ask what they heard. “It sounded like someone saying ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’” We all agree this is what we heard, and that the sound was coming from the other side of the tent.
The next morning we find all our cell phones sitting in the car still, and there’s no cell reception at the campground. Still sends shivers up my spine.
When I was in 5th grade once I forgot to put my school uniform in the laundry basket, so the next day I needed it for school it was dirty. I went to have breakfast in my pajamas while I was thinking how to tell my mom I didn’t have my uniform clean.
When I came back to my room there was a woman I have never see before, (in her 40s, brown dress, dark hair) ironing my uniform.
I blinked and she was gone. I would have assume I hallucinated the whole thing, but my uniform was there, clean, dried and ironed and ready for me to use.
And it couldn’t have been ironed by anyone else because my parents had breakfast with me and my sister was a baby.
I stayed at my grandmother’s house that my father spent a large amount of time in as a kid. My father drove us there in one go and was understandably tired after a 17-hour drive. We all started to lay down and my father checked in on us before going to bed himself. As he was talking, he stopped himself and told us to cover a large mirror “or you will have nightmares.” Now, nightmares from a mirror of all things sounded like a little fun to me, but my brothers, who were also sleeping in the same room, asked me to cover it. I did.
I asked my Dad about it before he left and he said ghosts use it as an entryway. A week later, I brought it up with my grandmother and she scoffed saying, “Oh, this house ain’t haunted.” I agreed, but told her that the reason I brought it up was because my Dad told me to cover a mirror. My grandmother then changed her expression and said, “OH, the mirror?” Apparently, that mirror came from her grandmother. She worked as a nurse and took in those who were going to die, but could not pay for care on their last days. So, she made her home into a hospice. Those who stayed in the room with the mirror, saw things.
A lovely old lady saw and heard a young lady come into her room and played a harp. She was thankful for the lovely songs, but no person was known nor was a harp owned or heard elsewhere. A young boy found an older boy who played games with him and “really knew his games.” Lastly, a terrible woman (refused to use the bathroom and shat in a cooking pot then hid it under her bed and well as argue/issued everyone daily) saw, and this is her words, “The devil” that spat fire at her. (The police were called and she tried to accuse the nurse of trying to kill her with the devil.) I also got stories from my mother seeing the same young lady who played the harp (without her harp that time) and my grandfather seeing the “devil” guy. My grandfather described it as a red man with horns that was too tall for the room he was in so he, still standing up straight, bent his neck down to fit. It stared down at him and simply asked, slowly, “WHY. ARE. YOU. HERE?” I kept that mirror covered.
This is my mom’s story, but she is completely sane and I believe it. My parents went to South Carolina for a wedding. They stayed at some old plantation bed and breakfast spot. She was sleeping when she woke up all of a sudden. She had her cellphone plugged into the wall and was on her nightstand. There was a notification on the phone so it was blinking. The female “ghost” was dressed in a full on old formal dress and she was fixated on the cellphone’s blinking light and was walking toward it. My mom said, “It’s ok, it’s just a phone.” The ghost turned and made eye contact with my mom, then disappeared.
My Dad’s story, not mine. Early 1980’s he is working a summer job at Yellowstone National Park (Wyoming). One day he and his friend Mark hiked up to the top of one of the mountains. They set up their tent inside an “Indian Pit”, a man-made hole dug out by Native Americans hundreds of years ago. The Indian Pits were either used as hunting blinds, or spots where young braves came to for their vision quest.
Late in the night my Dad wakes up and has to use the bathroom (#1). He crawled out of the tent, out of the Pit, and went walking a respectable distance away from the tent. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder pull him backwards. My Dad calls out, “Hey Mark, what are you doing?” He turns around, turns on his flashlight, and there is nobody there. He shines the light at his feet, and discovers that his next couple steps would have taken him directly over a steep cliff. He did his business and hurried back to the tent.
The next morning the two friends are waking up and his buddy says to him, “I know this sounds crazy, but I woke up in the middle of the night and I swear to you, there was an Indian man standing outside our tent.” Whatever really happened that night, my Dad is alive, he met my Mom in Yellowstone, and here I am writing this story to you today.
So there I was a 7 year old kid in rural Utah. I was staying the night at my grandparents’ house on Main Street. I didn’t want to sleep, so around midnight I went down into the basement. I took my matchbox cars and played “night city” with my glowing “Better Blocks”. I had this little metropolis going on when my uncle came down to play with me.
Should I mention my great uncle died when I was 2? Well, he did.
Anyway, my great uncle and I played “night city” for a good hour. I remember it like it was yesterday. He drove the Lincoln, because that was his favorite car. Anyway, it got late, he had to leave so he wouldn’t miss his train. He left, I went to sleep.
The next morning I asked when Uncle was coming back to play again. My grandparents were slightly offended that I bought it up. They hadn’t seen him since before I was born and wanted nothing to do with him. He was the black sheep of the family. I said him and I played cars and showed them the car that he drove in our city. They were uncomfortable with this and chalked it up to my imagination.
I never met my uncle. Again, he died when I was 2. Over the years since then, I have learned that he drove both a train (for Union Pacific) and a Lincoln MKVII. Like I said, I don’t believe in ghosts, but I don’t know how 7 year old me knew things about an estranged relative who died when I was 2 and was never spoken of, due to certain family issues.
To this day I don’t know what happened that night, but I remember playing night city with some guy who said he was my “uncle” like it was yesterday. He was super nice, and at the end of the game simply left out the back door.
I used to work at a museum that was once a functional prison. Throughout my 8+ years working there, I have been pushed, slapped, bit, dragged and punched by unseen entities. I always had problems when I would go to lock up certain buildings at night because you never knew what you would see coming around a corner. I went into the cell house once to turn off the lights, rounded the doorway to see a full-bodied apparition standing there in an inmate’s uniform. A split second later, he vanished into thin air.
There was a pretty notorious inmate who was involved in one of the riots, and his spirit would follow me around the grounds. One night, I was with a paranormal group, and we went into an area that we don’t let the public visit because its in disrepair, and we were screamed at to leave and something snarled at me. It was not uncommon for me, or one of my co-workers to have shadow people follow us around, and we would even have some poor visitors chased out of certain buildings like Maximum Security by such entities.
I have dozens of stories about that place.
When I was 13 I was in front of my house in queens practicing little bmx tricks on my bike. It was about 11 pm when I decided to call it a night but before I did I wanted to ride my bike along the water front in my neighborhood. When I completed the trail I saw a women wearing a white gown standing in front of a tree. I stopped my bike because I saw that she had no face. I thought that it was either a mannequin or I wasn’t close enough to make out her features so I shouted “HEY”. She didn’t respond. I rode my bike towards her until I was about 10 feet away – very close – and still no face. Then her head turned toward my direction. I jetted and went home and didn’t bring it up to anyone for years.
Ten years later my childhood friend saw the same woman with no face. One year after that our mutual friend shot himself in the head a few feet from that very spot.
I was around 10 years old and living in San Antonio. I got back to the apartment first after school. About 5 mins of being in the place alone I saw on the reflection of a mirror an older man in a tuxedo was in the kitchen. I flipped out and ran to my room and grabbed a bat. I waited 10ish minutes before coming out. I locked the door when I got home and never heard the door open for someone to leave. I didn’t tell anyone about it. Fast forward 6 years. I was watching Ghost Hunters with my family and my Mom asked if I remember the old man in the tux. Crazy stuff.
I worked in a fine dining restaurant in a beautiful heritage house from the early 1900s. Think national historic site. I was the last to close up and there was a security guard at the entrance parking gate but no one else around.
I walked through one of the dining rooms — it had a very large antique table surrounded by 16 antique chairs. They were the huge carved oak kind, very heavy. I put a note in the back room for the morning staff.
When I walked back through the dining room, all 16 antique chairs were now on top of the table. The security guard swore no one else was on the property, he never left his post, and nobody had passed him for hours.
Lawrence Hotel downtown Dallas. 10th floor last door on the right.
My buddies came in town and happened to book a room there. Short story around 3 the fire alarm went off, multiple times. Afterward we kept hearing a small child cry. Specifically a small girl. Loud enough I kept opening the door and it would just stop. Multiple times. I finally call down stairs only to find out WE WERE THE ONLY ONES ON THAT FLOOR!!!
Come to find out a small girl fell out of the window back in the day. She cries to get you to leave, which I did. A little more research and murders and a suicide have also happened on that floor. Good times.
I was about 13 and multiple bloody scratches manifested on my body. My neck, my back, and my wrist were scratched and bleeding. I remember they tickled then burned. I wouldn’t believe me either if it weren’t for the fact that my cousin witnessed just about all of it and took pictures.
In high school, I had a group of friends that loved to explore a haunted field. The field was at the back of a subdivision, alongside a highway, and was being readied for more houses to be built. Some nights we would go, and nothing happened. It felt fine, we saw nothing, and we’d leave. Other times, we would see lights, hear terrifying noises, or encounter shadow people, and we’d run back to our cars in terror. At least once, we got a few feet down the path and the entire group stopped—it felt like someone had thrown up a hand and forbid us from coming any further. We didn’t stay.
The most memorable visit, however, we came with a larger-than usual group. We were spread out on the path, looking out over the field, with the highway at our backs. We hadn’t seen or felt anything that night and were thinking it was too big a group, or that it was a dud night. We were just shooting the shit on the path, laughing and fucking around, when a wash of car headlights from the highway illuminated the field and revealed a distinct figure.
It was black, much darker than the shadows around it. Very clearly defined. He had broad shoulders, a hat, and red eyes. And strangely, the figure had no legs below the knees. In the next wash of headlights—nothing. It was gone. I started freaking out, and so did the two people standing next to me. They confirmed they had seen the figure, but the rest of the group hadn’t seen anything. Creepily, those that saw it thought he was standing in a ditch as they couldn’t see his lower legs. I believe that was a running-to-our-cars-in-terror kind of night.
Ten years ago, I was visiting old Aunt Mabel in her house in Minneapolis for the first time. She lived in a huge old house with a wrap-around porch, large garden out back, and the standard coal chute leading to the basement. There was a ground floor, an upper floor, an attic, and a servants’ stair in the back connecting the kitchen to the basement and upstairs servants’ quarters. I had heard through another family member that Aunt Mabel believed there was a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts, and I didn’t engage Aunt Mabel about it.
I slept in the guest room that first night, and I awoke at 1:00am to see that my bedroom door was open, and also the bedroom door across the hall was also open. No one was sleeping in there.
My blurry eyes saw a little boy standing next to the bed in the room across the hall in the darkness. The white doily parts of his vintage clothing were slightly lit up in the moonlight. It appeared that he was looking right at me.
I rubbed my eyes and opened them again to see the scene differently. I had mistaken the nightstand covered in a white lace cloth as a little boy. I went back to sleep.
Downstairs at breakfast the next morning, Aunt Mabel asked me how my night went. She hinted that I should share any dreams or stories with her. So I told her about the little boy that was actually a night stand.
Her face lit up and she said, “Oh, so you saw little Walter!”
The house had been home in the early 1900s to a family with a little boy named Walter. One day, the boy had been found dead in the basement at the bottom of the coal chute. It had been a mystery, but foul play had been suspected. (So says Aunt Mabel.)
Unfortunately, I have not been in touch with Aunt Mabel for a very long time. I am still curious as to what the full story was about Walter’s family.
I saw my elderly next door neighbor gardening in her back garden. She loved gardening. Later that evening her daughter called at our house to inform us that her mum had died the night before. When I told my mum she said she’d seen her too
Maybe we saw a residual ghost or maybe we were mistaken.
My mom’s dad can sense when a ghost is around. Our neighbor recently passed and we had her apartment in our hands and we let my mom’s dad stay there. Her spirit or ghost was around and things kept falling off shelves. My mom’s dad kept shivering. (It was the middle of summer).
People who move into that apartment usually move out within 6 months – 1 year.
This is my most recent, but the other night I was laying in bed and the clock had just hit 3:15am. I had just gone to the bathroom and come back and was almost back to sleep when I heard what sounded like a cup being sat on a plate, like china being hit against china, and I thought to myself jokingly, “Haha, sure would suck if someone were in here with me.” And not ten seconds later I felt something grab my ankle and hold on tightly. I hit the switch on my lamp and looked around, nothing there, no imprint on the blanket, no marks on my skin, no one hiding behind the footboard, and the door to the hallway and closets were shut so no one could escape. It had me freaked out enough to sleep with the lamp on that night.
From the time I was about 12-17 years old I lived in what I believe was a haunted house. I’ve never had experiences like I had in that house since moving out. A few specific memories come to mind. Once I was hanging up laundry in my closet. I heard someone whisper my name in my ear, clear as day. I’d never sprinted out of a room so fast.
Another time my sister and I had friends over and we decided to use a tape recorder to ask questions to the ghosts like they do on those paranormal shows. We played the tape not expecting to hear anything and could hear a very soft voice say, “I’m in the closet.” We were sitting near a small closet in the basement.
My parents eventually decided to sell the house. We moved into a new place before selling this place. My sister stopped by the house after there had been a couple of showings to turn out the lights in the house. She went to turn off the lights in the basement which had multiple light switches. One was at the far end of the basement away from the stairs. She turned off the light and swears she heard heavy footfalls of someone running towards her. She ran out of the house without turning out the rest of the lights and locked the door. That was the last time either of us went back until we were in the neighborhood and the new owners offered to show us the renovations they made. Nothing happened then but they did ask us if we wanted to babysit their kids. We politely declined.
Okay, so when I was about 9 years old, I went down to the graveyard, to visit my grandpa, as I often did when I was younger. My parents felt it was safe for me to walk alone, since I had my hello kitty phone with me and the grave yard wasn’t far away from my house and my grandmas house. Plus, some of my classmates lived close by too.
So I went down, I talked with my grandpa for a bit, and washed his grave, to make sure it was clean, because 9 year old me wanted it too look nice. After about 20 minutes, I decided to go home. As I was walking, I suddenly stopped and looked over at a tree. My grandma had told me that it was there her best friend was buried. There wasn’t a grave stone, but over time had a tree grown on her. I don’t know what that went to my 9 year old brain, but I decided to talk to her, like I did with my grandpa.
“Hello. How are you?” Was all I asked, not expecting a response. But then… It appeared. A ghost of an old lady, in her 50. I assumed that was my grandma’s best friend.
I don’t remember exactly what she said, but I think she said she was doing good. I stayed an extra 20 minutes, and talked to her. I can’t really remember what, but possibly my grandma. The only reason why I left, was because my mom called me. I said my goodbyes to her, as she disappeared.
So not really a scary story, but still a ghost story.
I was around 11 and I was convinced the house was haunted because I heard footsteps all the time but no doors would open. One day I was under my blanket and I heard the footsteps again. I check and I see this little kid with black eyes short hair and was about as short as the bed just staring at me. (About 2 feet). I couldn’t sleep in the dark and I developed Nyctophobia from it.
I was 5 at the time. Just moved to FL from NJ. Lived in the back of an apartment complex and on the third floor. Only my mother and I. She told me recently that every single night she’d hear noises of knocking and banging and such around the apartment.
The kicker of it all that proved it: I was in my room with a vaulted ceiling and had stuffed animals on shelves way higher than I could possibly reach. I was playing in there with some toys while my mother was making dinner and the door was wide open. Out of nowhere, the door slammed shut HARD. Of course my mother runs to my room to check on me.
Apparently I was laying in my bed and ALL of the stuffed animals were in a pile in the center of my room. We took a week vacation after that.
Another time of proof: my mother went for some water or something in the middle of the night and saw me sleep walking around the house and stated that I looked like I was chasing something around the house. She called out my name and apparently I answered in a deep male voice. She then ran out of the house and didn’t return until morning (don’t blame her…).
Still get chills thinking about this shit. There were so many more than just this.
My dad passed away when I was just 8 months old. When I started talking, I would tell everyone that I see daddy. My mom would even walk in on me talking to “my daddy” in the crib. Strange thing is, my mom never taught me the word daddy since I wouldn’t be needing it. To make things weirder, when I was 4 years old, I came downstairs and told my mom that daddy had come to visit me. I told her that he was coming to get Grandma and take her with him. Not even an hour later my mom gets a call that my grandma passed away.
I was really young. I would guess 8-10 years old, but that’s just a ballpark guess. I shared a room with my younger brother. Our room was very large, and for some reason we put our bunkbeds right in the middle of the room, with the side of the bed facing the doorway. I had top bunk.
Every morning, our mom would come into our room to wake us up for school. It was the worst feeling. This morning, I had already been awake for some time, just laying in bed. It was still dark outside. Depending on the time of year (I don’t remember), it being dark when we were getting up for school might have been normal. So I’m sitting there, laying in bed, and the door to our room opens. It doesn’t take much effort to turn my gaze to the door. I see a woman in some kind of white gown, who I can only assume is my mother (even though I never recall her ever wearing an outfit like that) standing in the doorway. She takes a step in, closes the door behind her, and slowly starts approaching our beds. She gets so close that I’m no longer able to see her (because of the angle I have being on the top bunk). I assume she’s going to start waking up my brother at any moment, so I do that kid thing where I shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep. I wait. And wait. And wait. I finally open my eyes. The door is still closed. I’m super confused at this point so I lean over the railing to see what she’s up to. And there was no one there. I freak out and cover my head with all of my blankets and lay there for what felt like quite a bit until I fell asleep.
My Dad died a month ago very suddenly. We’re Native people so we believe in the spirit world. Little weird things happened throughout the week of his funeral. After we buried my Mother’s and his ashes together as they wished… we saw three rainbows. Remember the double rainbow guy? I was three times full of joy as he was. We went back to my uncle’s to relax. The door to their lower patio blew open. We all looked at each other. We woke up the next morning and fresh snow had fallen. It was very early and no one would have been walking around. We saw two sets of footprints in the snow in a circle. This is way up north so people aren’t just walking by. What made me happy was it was two footprints. My Dad had lost a leg in 2013. I was glad to know he had gotten it back.
I used to sell HVAC in Michigan, during college. There was this really awesome old dude that called for new high efficiency furnace in his historic home in Depot Town (near Ann Arbor).
As I’m putting together the quote, we get to talking about the home and it’s history. He tells me that it was part of the underground railroad and had a tunnel that led down to the train station (only about 500 yards away).
I’ll be honest, I was more focused on the sale than all the details he was laying out about the house. But one thing that made my ears perk up was the ‘people that lived with him’. He tells me about a few, but the one that stuck out was he said that there was a lady that was so fascinated with electricity that she would turn random lights on at random times.
As I printing out the quote and going over the details and payment options with him, the light behind me turns on. Then the one across the room. Then the one in the kitchen. Then the one in the hallway. I just kinda got quiet and sunk a little in the seat. Then the old dude raised his voice and said something like, ‘Okay, that’s enough for today, sweetheart. We can do it again tomorrow.’
To this day, I don’t know if the old dude was just having some fun with me or it was real.
My mom believes in good spirits and getting blessings for good luck and protection by putting out food offerings for them on our dining table. My mom does this for special days and after she’s done with her prayers that’s when anyone can eat the food. She usually does it in the morning and then by the afternoon that’s when food is free for the taking.
So it’s a typical afternoon, I was online on my laptop in my room and I got hungry. My room was connected to a small hallway and at the end of the hallway is the living room and the dining table. So I opened my door and stepped out into the hallway and I saw something on top of the table eating. It was hard to make out at first because I’m nearsighted and this thing was kinda transparent. I got closer and stopped halfway through the hallway and I realized… there was a literal transparent brown monkey on the table.
It was making motions as if it was eating some of the fruit offerings. It didn’t notice me yet and in my disbelief I got even closer, but when I stopped in my tracks again right at the end of the hallway, it noticed me and got startled. I’m startled, the monkey’s startled, and I’m just standing there and not believing my eyes. Very quickly, this transparent monkey just jumps off the table and ambles off hastily towards the exit where the outer door is locked.
That’s it, I just stood there staring at the door where it fled and I’m just like… wow I really can’t believe what I just saw. In American horror movies and scary stories, there’s hardly anything about ghost monkeys. I don’t consume that kind of content… and ghost monkey?? Who’d have thunk it.
Anyway later on I told my mom about what I saw and she didn’t even blink. I might as well have told her that the sky is blue, I’m her daughter, etc. She really believes in spirits that much and didn’t doubt my story at all. Also years later I told one of my coworkers (who is also Cambodian around my age, speaks fluently, and has also been to Cambodia) about my experience. He said that there’s a lot of monkeys in Cambodia. I didn’t know this at all and have never seen a monkey irl. My mom doesn’t talk about monkeys and owns nothing related to monkeys. So that’s my story. Neither me nor a ghost monkey expected to be spooked that day.
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