Ghosties, ghoulies, and things that go "bump".

[The Valkyrie]

Being atheists, I would imagine the vast majority of us don't believe in ghosts, spirits, hauntings, or the like,

I don't either, but that doesn't mean I'm not interested in reading about them.

So, does anyone have a favourite ghost story they'd like to share?

How about a personal experience you or someone close to you have had that you just can't explain?


I'll start:  When I was younger, my brother reported waking up in the middle of the night and seeing my father and grandfather standing in the doorway of his bedroom looking at him.

At the time my father was in Perth and my grandfather had been dead a couple of years.

Being the supportive older sister, I told him that he was either drunk or stoned (he was 12 at the time), 

We put it down to a dream, but he still believes what he saw was real.

[brewer]

Do bad acid trips count?

[Catholic_Lady]

Possessed is really good, by Thomas Allen. Its the true account of an exorcism case in St Louis back in the 50's. Though im sure you don't believe the "true" part. Great book nonetheless. Super creepy.

[LadyForCamus]

I have two experiences that old like to share; that I've thought about sharing here for some time now, but I'm three glasses of wine in right now, so I'll be back when I can form a coherent thought on the subject. 😏

[Fireball]

I "bump" in the nighttime, and in the daytime, too, if I can convince the wife!

[Edwardo Piet]

I bump myself a lot. Although I don't normally call it that.

[Whateverist]

I have two experiences that old like to share; that I've thought about sharing here for some time now, but I'm three glasses of wine in right now, so I'll be back when I can form a coherent thought on the subject.  😏

So you're with the spirits even as we speak?

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I can't get into the whole horror/scary genre myself. Not my thing. But Shell is an aficionado. Might PM her for a recommendation.

[The Grand Nudger]

I won't go into the mountains alone at night, and I won't go at all without a rifle.  I have a deep seated and visceral fear of what may be in the dark.  I can't make it to the end of my driveway to take the trash up without my entire body on edge, looking out of the corners of my eyes into the treeline.  I won't ever look behind me..I pathologically avoid looking behind me.  I listen, though.  I can move my ears independently...it makes my kids giggle, but I got good at it swiveling them around out of quiet terror.  I would be startled...but not completely surprised, if a fucking werewolf came bounding out from the creek bed.  I;m not even remotely kidding..this is how convincing my general fear of the shit in the woods at night is.  My greatest irrational anxiety, is that the thing that doesn't go bump behind me, where I won't look..is wendigo..and I'll never hear it coming. I even remind myself to warcry, to turn and face and roar. So maybe I'll scare whatever isn't, or at least someone will know somethings happened to me - so the things that aren't only surprise one person on my watch. I make little mock roars under my breath, in the back of my throat, while I'm quickstepping towards the porch. If I was the type to analyze it, I'd say the thing that isn't is me, the thing behind me is me, that thing that swoops in and snatches is me. It's growling at me, when I growl at myself. The question becomes..do I avoid looking at the windows because of what might be behind them, or what I'll see reflected?

I don't believe in ghosts or spirits, but my mind can't help but wander to things that go bump.   I got circled once in Kosovo by something that none of us could see with nvgs...now..I chalk that up to us looking too high, we were looking for a man when it was probably a feral child.  I would've shot the little fucker if I'd seen him...my fear predates that incident, so it;s probably for the best that I didn't..or it -would- be a ghost story.  

Speaking of ghosts.  My favorite ghost story is one that I don't believe in, but that many people in Tampa Bay do.  It's a variant of the lady in grey modified by the vanishing hitchhiker.  In this case, a grey sweatshirt.  Last seen trying to thumb a ride across the Skyway Bridge, a popular place for suicide attempts due to it's height - 410 feet at center - at least 200 people have jumped.  The old bridge was struck by the freighter blackthorn, sending a bus in the water on a rip tide.  36 dead.  The new bridge was built beside it. . A blonde girl in her early twenties is said to thumb a ride at the north end..southbound lane, where traffic slows to a crawl through the toll.  Disheveled, wet as if recently showered.  She never says a word.  However, as you reach the central span, where the ascent is the steepest, about 2 and a half miles from shore (and 2 more until the other side)...she begins crying, and before you summit, she's gone.

[Whateverist]

I won't go into the mountains alone at night, and I won't go at all without a rifle.  I have a deep seated and visceral fear of what may be in the dark.  I can't make it to the end of my driveway to take the trash up without my entire body on edge, looking out of the corners of my eyes into the treeline.  I won't ever look behind me..I pathologically avoid looking behind me.  I listen, though.  I can move my ears independently...it makes my kids giggle, but I got good at it swiveling them around out of quiet terror.  I would be startled...but not completely surprised, if a fucking werewolf came bounding out from the creek bed.  I;m not even remotely kidding..this is how convincing my general fear of the shit in the woods at night is.  My greatest irrational anxiety, is that the thing that doesn't go bump behind me, where I won't look..is wendigo..and I'll never hear it coming.  I even remind myself to warcry, to turn and face and roar.  So maybe I'll scare whatever isn't, or at least someone will know somethings happened to me - so the things that aren't only surprise one person on my watch.  I make little mock roars under my breath, in the back of my throat, while I'm quickstepping towards the porch.  If I was the type to analyze it, I'd say the thing that isn't is me, the thing behind me is me, that thing that swoops in and snatches is me.  It's growling at me, when I growl at myself.  The question becomes..do I avoid looking at the windows because of what might be behind them, or what I'll see reflected?

I don't believe in ghosts or spirits, but my mind can't help but wander to things that go bump.   I got circled once in Kosovo by something that none of us could see with nvgs...now..I chalk that up to us looking too high, we were looking for a man when it was probably a feral child.  I would've shot the little fucker if I'd seen him...my fear predates that incident, so it;s probably for the best that I didn't..or it -would- be a ghost story.  

Speaking of ghosts.  My favorite ghost story is one that I don't believe in, but that many people in Tampa Bay do.  It's a variant of the lady in grey modified by the vanishing hitchhiker.  In this case, a grey sweatshirt.  Last seen trying to thumb a ride across the Skyway Bridge, a popular place for suicide attempts due to it's height - 410 feet at center - at least 200 people have jumped.  The old bridge was struck by the freighter blackthorn, sending a bus in the water on a rip tide.  36 dead.  The new bridge was built beside it. . A blonde girl in her early twenties is said to thumb a ride at the north end..southbound lane, where traffic slows to a crawl through the toll.  Disheveled, wet as if recently showered.  She never says a word.  However, as you reach the central span, where the ascent is the steepest, about 2 and a half miles from shore (and 2 more until the other side)...she begins crying, and before you summit, she's gone.

In my early twenties, lacking the excitement you encountered in the army, I did some adventuring with a buddy specifically aimed at confronting fears .. skateboarding (fear of speed), climbing (fear of heights), some drugs and spelunking (fear of dark and confined spaces).  We used to drive down to Santa Cruz to explore a cave on the U.C. campus.  So on another occasion I went down to attend a party with a female student (fear of rejection) on that campus with the plan to meet my adventure buddy for some spelunking the next day.  

Trigger warnings.  

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Things didn't go so well with the lady friend so I had to camp (too poor to rent a room at the time).  I'd brought a sleeping bag just in case.  So dragged it and my other gear to the cave, climbed down to the largest room where there was a nice flat shelf off to one side and crashed there.  Slept pretty good.

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[The Grand Nudger]

See, I wouldn't get a wink.  My sphincter would be tight enough to crack a walnut until sunrise.  Fear doesn't work that way for me, confrontation means nothing, I'm still afraid.  Deep water, the dark, children's faces, heights, snakes, cats that stare at nothing.

You know, the usual.  

Tell you what, though..if I ever needed to sleep in a cave, I'd totally spoon with you,...and I wouldn't be afraid. Funny how that goes, what terrifies me alone is a non-issue when there are a few extra chimps present. Maybe I'm secretly assuming it'll eat you first?