Lets share your "Ghost Stories" - 2012 edition.

Do you believe in ghosts?

  • Yeah... and we still don't talk about it.

    Votes: 5 27.8%
  • Hell No

    Votes: 12 66.7%
  • Don't drink the water...

    Votes: 7 38.9%

  • Total voters
    18

Dr.IndianaJones

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It's that time of the year again, as people get ready for Halloween. Lets share any creepy or scary situations that may have happened to you or someone you may know. Also you may share any ghost story books that you think would be a good read.

I have a few that I will share later...

Some good books that I have read are the Haunted Ohio books. A few of those ghost stories happened in my old town.
 
one time I thought all my forum posts were possessed by a ghost!
 
I honestly have not decided if I've been seeing shit in my house at night the last few years or the doc misdiagnosed me and I have schizophrenia or something.
 
One time a ghost gave me a really bad deal on some used speakers. I've been ghost racist ever since. ****ing freeloading spectres squatting out all our good graveyards.
 
Though not a ghost story, people who either sleepwalk or sleep talk make for unsettling incidents. I recall playing video games late into the night at 2am in the complete dark when out of the corner of my eye I spy my bedroom door open rather slowly. Cue myself just staring in abject horror. Then my sister walks in without looking at me, walks to the corner and just stares blankly at the wall. At this stage, had I less control, my pants would have been swimming in a litre of urine and good amount of faeces. Until I realised after calling her name for a minute that she was in fact sleepwalking (this was the first occasion in which she had done so) and I took her back to her bed. Nevertheless, I got zero sleep that night.

And to make things worse, her friend is even more prolific, to the point where she'll sleepwalk into people's bedrooms and stand at the end of their bed eyes open mumbling nonsense for hours on end (Paranormal Activity style).
 
Whilst my parents were on holiday, me and my sister spotted somebody in my parents bed, at different times from one another. She assumed it was me, and I thought it was her.
 
Whilst my parents were on holiday, me and my sister spotted somebody in my parents bed, at different times from one another. She assumed it was me, and I thought it was her.

Different times? Ha. What a lie.
 
Here we go:

Dying alone terrifies me. But that's not an especially embarrasing fear.

But I'm unnerved by matchsticks. I'm sure the veterans of the forum remember the story, but I'll reiterate it here anyways. It must've been five years ago now that this happens. Still scares me thinking about it.

Basically, I got out of bed one morning on a dreary summer's , to find that everyone else in my household, bar my mother had gone swimming. So, I threw on some clothes and went downstairs to see my mother watching daytime television. I hate daytime television, so I decided to go upstairs to get a book to read.

How strange - the door had closed in my five minute absence. So, I opened the door to see something that'll haunt me to this day.

The entire room was covered in burnt-out matches. Everywhere. On the floor. On my bed. IN my bed. In my drawers. In my closet. The place absolutely reeked of sulphur.
So, I was rather unnerved that in my five-minute absense that someone had struck a couple of hundred matches and spread them around my room. Still, I had to find the source of it. Now, in my room at the time, my bed had a sort-of crawlspace beneath it that was always ominous-looking. If anyone had been in my room, they'd be hiding under there. So, I got on my knees and started crawling.

Bad move. The underneath of my bed was packed full of matches, and the air was choked with the smell of burning. My subconcious started making its own mind up about what was happening, and I could have sworn that, mirrored to my own frightened breathing, there was something else breathing heavily under there. Heavy, deep breathing. Looking back on it, I could probably say it sounded a little like Darth Vader.
Still, my sanity snapped at this point, and I bolted down the stairs to scream at my mother at what happened. She didn't believe me, but after a load of coaxing, I convinced her to come upstairs with a torch.

She couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the matches. It took us hours to clear up, and when we shone the torch under my bed to see what was there, all we found was a small mound of empty matchboxes under the head of my bed.

To this day, I can't figure out what actually happened.

-Angry Lawyer
 
Love the Knockin' Boots podcast from IGN.

I cried laughing first time I heard this:

NSFW


IT'S A GHOST!
 
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