ghoststrories: March 2011

Monday, March 21, 2011

Dysfunctional Family and Mama Aline

A lot of the stories on here I wouldn’t believe for 2 seconds of my life and I’m sure as some of you read this you’ll think the same thing as you read this, but I swear everything that I say as I write this down is completely true.
I used to live in a house that was built in the 1920′s and it’s age is evident now since everything is falling apart. I lived with my grandparents, neither of them believed in the paranormal. When I was 5 I started head start and when I would come home my mama Aline (grandmother) would claim that she heard a baby crying my dad (granddad) brushed it off because the woman was ill from cancer and we didn’t talk about it. Christmas that year I received a doll that cried and cooed (similar to the ones you might receive in a high school parenting class), but this one you could turn off. In the middle of the night I rolled over on it, and it screamed! I had played with the doll all day and it had not done that eve if I dropped it. Your probably thinking she was only 5 how does she remember that, but it scared me so bad I started crying. My dad came in and yanked it out of the bed and pulled the batteries out of it’s back, but the screaming continued, now when I think about the event I believe the doll may have been possessed.

Mandy's Home -3

Right I hope you have read parts one and two of this story. If not this won't make any sense at all so please back track
Mandy and I broke up at the end of that summer my fault with me refusing to go to her home, dot even wrote to me asking to come by but I politely refused to go I was not going to be attacked again. I did meet Michael in there street to say sorry for falling on him and for running out without checking he was ok, unfortunately he did cut his head a bit just above his right eye but not too badly.
Now we jump forward 7 years.
I was living at my mum's place waiting to get my own place, one of my brother's (Dave) was living across the road with his girlfriend (Lesley), we would get together watch movies have a few drinks and just chill. One day I popped over and Lesley's niece Becky was there with her new boyfriend who at the time was looking for somewhere to rent a room having fallen out with his mum. While the boyfriend was asking if he could rent a room off my brother I chatted with Becky in the hall. "You will love spike he is short but hunky" Becky said just then this guy walked in to the hall we both looked at each other nothing was said and he went back into the living room. I felt very strongly that I knew the guy from somewhere but was not sure where, then it hit me. Spike was Michael. Small world! We got chatting and had a laugh about the things that had happened at his home 7 years back, the cold spots, Mandy's bedroom door and how much he annoyed me back then. "look here" he said lifting his hair up he had gotten a scar from the "fall" I felt so guilty and had to tell him the truth "I\'m not that surprised Fred could get real moody" spike said (the nickname everyone uses now don't know how he got it though.

My stepmother was vile. I guess most kids think that when their father remarries. But in this case, it was true. She only married Father because he was rich, and she hated children. There were three of us – me (Marie), my middle brother Richard and my youngest brother Charles. We were the price my stepmother Gerta paid for being rich. And we were all that stood between her and inheriting Father's money when he died. So she took steps against us.
She sent my youngest brother Charles away to boarding school overseas. It had a good, scholarly reputation, but it also had the reputation for being a hard school that was full of bullies and strict discipline. Not a place where a delicate child like Charles, who had been sickly as a baby, would thrive. He was miserable there. Somehow, Gerta contrived to keep him there for all but the summer holidays, and when he came home the first year he was pale and thin with dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises. He cried – he actually cried! – when Father told him he had to go back to the school. But Father didn’t listen to him. Gerta thought it would be good for Charles to go there, and so Charles went.
I did everything I could – encouraging letters and daily phone calls – until Gerta said it was too expensive and restricted calls to five minutes once a month. I even got Father to book me a ticket to Europe so I could visit Charles. Gerta was enraged when she found out. Her blue eyes went so cold it made chills run up my spine, and her pink mouth thinned into a bitter line that bade ill for me since I had dared to interfere. Two days before my plane left for Europe, the school called and told us that Charles had climbed up to the tallest tower and flung himself off. He was dead.

Death Coach

It is midnight. The streets of Cohoes grow silent as the citizens turn off their lights one by one and go to their well-earned rest. The night is dark, and the wind whispers softly, touching the trees and houses, rattling a window pane here and there.

In one house, a woman sits beside her window, waiting silently for the doctor to arrive. Her beloved husband lies on the bed next to her. In the light of a single candle, she can see his emaciated face. He is in terrible pain, which even the drugs prescribed by the doctor cannot abate. She clutches his hand tightly, feeling the cold creeping through it. He is barely breathing now. She knows he is slipping away. One part of her is thankful, for she cannot bear to see him in so much pain. Most of her wants to scream out in desperation, begging him not to leave her alone.

Outside the house, the soft rumble of wheels and the clip-clop of hooves echo through the still night. The woman tears her eyes from her husband's face and looks out of the window, expecting to see the doctor's curricle pulling into the street. Instead, she sees a dark, closed coach with black gaping holes where the windows should be. The shafts at the front of the coach are empty, yet she can hear the sound of invisible horses' hooves, as the coach moves slowly down the street.

The Tall Man Ghost In Black

I’m 41 and I live in Sacramento, California. I know it sounds cliche, but I have experienced supernatural things most all my life but this is one of the most interesting experiences in my life thus far.
Around 1997 my partner and I rented a duplex. When we first saw the house both spaces were vacant and we got to choose which side we wanted so we picked the one that was available at that time. As we walked through the place I got a feeling the place was haunted, I thought I saw a slight glow on the kitchen ceiling but shrugged it off as light from the window. After I even told my partner what I thought but didn’t think anything of it. As a slight back-story the previous tenants moved out quickly skipping out on their debts.
Now I never got a feeling of evil or anything like that so I never felt threatened. My partner one morning woke up and looked over to the doorway and thought he saw a man standing staring at us but just laid back down and went to sleep. He told me about this the next day and thought it could have been the way the light was coming through the window blinds.
About a year later we moved our bed to another room, as there was a sump pump under the floor in that room. I woke, as I am apt to do in the middle of the night and saw a very tall man walking out of our room. He suddenly he turned his head and our eyes met for a quick second before I snatched my eyes closed pretending to be asleep. I don’t know if he walked back in the room but I refused to open my eyes for fear he was staring me in the face but I soon fell asleep again.
In the morning I told my partner what I saw. I said he was as tall as the doorway, dressed in a black cloak or coat that appeared to be full length and with a very white bald head. If I were to compare him to something you could visualize it would be something like Pinhead from Hellrasier, with out the pins of course. I could not tell you what his eyes looked like because I didn’t have my glasses on but I could tell our eyes met. My partner said that was the same thing he saw and at first accused me of copying it from him but I reminded him that he never said what he looked like.
After this we would see a shadow like mist going from room to room and one time my partner thought he saw feet walk past him in the hall and once someone sitting on the couch. We both thought this was all interesting and I became more intrigued.
One morning I was making breakfast and set the butter knife on top of the jar on the counter top. As I was sitting enjoying my toast the knife fell of the jar but it did just fall next to the jar but bounced down the counter about 4 feet away.

The Gorgon: A Story of Medusa

Once upon a time, there lived a Gorgon, and she was the meanest, ugliest creature that ever lived, or so I am told, though I have never met her, so it might just be hearsay. The Gorgon lived all alone in a ruined temple by the sea. No one ever visited the Gorgon, for with but a glance, the Gorgon could turn any creature into stone. Her hair was a writhing mass of snakes, and her body that of a woman, but her torso ended in a serpantine coil of golden scales. Two great feathery wings protruded from her back, like a gryphon's, but these lovely appendages only rendered the rest of this monster more grotesque in appearance. Now, I can’t imagine who it was who brought back such a vivid account of this fell creature, for as far as I know for certain, none have ever returned from the Gorgon’s lair. But this is what I have heard of her.
One day, there was a youth named Darius, who, sailing to Carthage, was caught up in a terrible storm. Darius’ ship sank beneath the waves, and he awoke on the beach of a small island. Weary and hungry, Darius nonetheless out on foot for help to return to his native Greece. He knew he had to continue, and drew upon all his strength to aid him in his journey home. After some time traveling on foot, Darius came upon a ruined temple halfway up a rocky cliff. By now Darius was growing tired but even more hungry, so he decided to climb the cliff.

The first person to recognize that Anneliese Michel was possessed by demons was an older woman accompanying the girl on a pilgrimage. She noticed that Anneliese would not walk past a certain image of Jesus, refused to drink water from a holy spring and smelled bad — hellishly bad. An exorcist in a nearby town examined Michel and returned a diagnosis of demonic possession. The bishop issued permission to perform the rite of exorcism according to the Roman ritual of 1614.
Half a year and 67 rites of exorcism later, Anneliese Michel was dead at 23.
Anneliese Michel did not die in the Middle Ages, but in 1976, in the small town of Klingenberg, in the heart of one of the most civilized and advanced countries in Europe: Germany.
Two years after Michel’s death, a German court found her parents and the two priests involved guilty of negligent manslaughter and sentenced them to six months in prison, suspended with three years’ probation.
What shocked Germany most was the fact that it could happen in a country that prides itself on being highly rational — and highly secularized.
“The surprising thing was that the people connected to Michel were all completely convinced that she had really been possessed,” says Franz Barthel, amazement still in his voice three decades after he covered the story for the regional daily paper Main-Post.

Real Scary Ghost Video - Most Haunted Wisconsin - the Living Ro - Video.flv

Mandy's Home - 2

Note to all please read Mandy's home before reading this.
I became a regular visitor to Mandy's home that summer and dot liked to chat for hours so getting out was hard and to be honest Michael was a pain in the neck. He would not leave me alone which was my own fault I would by him sweets.
Dot loved to talk about "Fred" her friendly spirit that liked her blue and white china animal figures she kept on the mantel above the fire. "He will move them if I ignore him for a few days but always puts them back when I tell him" dot told me she enjoyed my visits. Some days I thought she was telling tales but would indulge her, I liked them all and enjoyed my visits.
I went away to the seaside one weekend and found a blue and white china cow figure with a bell round its neck that rang if the cow was lifted or moved, instantly I thought of dot and brought it for her. She loved her gift when I got back and put it with the rest on the mantel then we went outside into the garden she had asked me to help with a bit of weeding. After an hour or so I went back into the kitchen to get a cold drink when I heard the bell on the cow ring thinking it was Michael playing with it (he was only 8 at the time) I shouted through from the kitchen "Michael put that down before you break it" the back door opened and Michael came in from outside "break what?" he asked. He had been in the shed playing out of the way!

I'm Coming Down Now!

There was an abandoned house sitting in the middle of a fancy neighborhood in Calgary that nobody would go near. And I mean nobody! Now , my pal Albert was the agent in charge of selling that haunted house and he tried everything in his power to close a deal. But folks were too plumb scared to make an offer, even at rock-bottom prices. Finally, Albert lit on the notion of selling the house sight unseen to a rich city slicker from the States. Worked like a charm, too, until the day the city slicker decided he wanted to visit the property after all.
Albert was all set to take the fellow there at high noon, but the city slicker’s train was delayed, so it wasn’t until after dinner that the two men set off for the haunted house. It was a dark and rainy night, but early enough in the evening that the ghost might still be resting. At least, Albert hoped this was the case.
Albert unlocked the front door, and it opened with an ominous creak. Albert swallowed nervously, but the city slicker just chuckled and said something about atmosphere. Albert relaxed a bit, and wondered if he shouldn’t have raised the price a bit. The two men entered a tall foyer absolutely festooned with dusty cobwebs.

French Beach House Hauntings

Over the summer, my Husband, my two Kids and I spent our summer at my husband's Grandparent's home on an island off the west coast of France. Their home is a charming little beach house, built in the early 50s. It is located in a tiny fishing village. There have been no deaths in the home, or on the beach near the house. However, we experienced very unusual activity at both sites regularly.
My first experience happened on the second day of our vacation. It was night out, and my children were out in the front yard, when suddenly I heard my name being called excitedly. I rushed out, to find my son looking at something in the bushes. I went over to see what he was looking at, to see a frightened little Hedgehog (which are very common in the area) hidden in the bush. It quickly scampered deeper into the shrub, which we later found out was his home.
I quickly got my camera out, and snapped pictures of the inside of the under wood, to see if I could capture any photos of the Hedgehog. While taking pictures of the yard, I started noticing things in the pictures. Thick, black smudge-like appearances showed in nearly every picture I captured. Keep in mind that I had the flash on, so it could've been just shadows. But the smudges would appear in the middle of the pictures, where nothing could have gotten in the way, so I am a little skeptical of this idea. After the encounter, my kids would spend most of their time near the bushes, hoping to see the little spike ball again.

Child in the Farmhouse

A couple of years back, my parents and I were planning our annual family holiday to Brittany, France. Usually, we booked the gites through reputable brochures and suchlike. However, this one summer, we decided to try finding a gite on the Internet.
We soon stumbled across a rather lovely looking farmhouse in the south of Brittany. It was everything we were after. Rustic looking, but all mod cons, large garden, in the centre of a village - not far from a main town or the beach. The owner's contact details were on the web site and so we gave him a ring. He seemed like a genuine nice guy and was pleased to offer us the farmhouse for our two week holiday.
So off we went. Happy and joyous, and thoroughly looking forward to our holiday. It's about day's drive to Brittany from our house in England, and so by the time we reached the village, the sun was setting and we were all pretty knackered. We drove through the village slowly, following the owner's directions. The farmhouse was meant to be right at the end of the village and so, we kept driving, past a school... Some ramshackle farm buildings... A few houses... And then suddenly, we were on the road again... Driving past fields. We turned around, driving back, certain we had missed a turning or something, somewhere.
Then it hit us. Those ramshackle old farm buildings included our farmhouse gite.

Armadillo's Song

There once lived an armadillo who loved music more than anything else in the world. After every rainfall, the armadillo would drag his shell over to the large pond filled with frogs and he would listen to the big green frogs singing back and forth, back and forth to each other in the most amazing voices.
"Oh," thought the armadillo, "Oh how I wish I could sing."
The armadillo would creep to the edge of the water and watch the frogs leaping and swimming in a frantic green ballet, and they would call back and forth, back and forth in beautiful, musical tones. He loved to listen to the music they made as they spoke, though he didn't understand their words; which was just as well - for the frogs were laughing at this funny animal that wanted so badly to sing like a frog.
"Don't be ridiculous," sang the frogs as they played. "Armadillos can't sing."
Then one day a family of crickets moved into a new house near the armadillo, and he was amazed to hear them chirp and sing as merrily as the frogs. He would creep next to their house and listen and listen all day, all night for their musical sounds.
"Oh," sighed the armadillo, "Oh how I wish I could sing."
"Don't be ridiculous," sang the crickets in their dulcet tones. "Armadillos can't sing."
But the armadillo could not understand their language, and so he just sighed with longing and listened to their beautiful voices laughing at him.

Pele's Revenge

Ohi'a and Lehua loved each other from the moment they first saw each other at a village dance. Ohi'a was a tall strong man with a handsome face and lithe form. He was something of a trickster and was first in all the sports played by all the young men. Lehua was gentle and sweet and as fragile as a flower. Her beauty was the talk of the island, and her father was quite protective of his only child.
When Lehua saw the handsome, bold Ohi'a speaking with her father beside the bonfire, she blushed crimson, unable to take her eyes from the young man. At the same moment, Ohi'a glanced up from his conversation and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the beautiful maiden. He was not even aware that he had stopped speaking right in the middle of his sentence, so overwhelmed was he by the sight of the fair maiden across the fire from him.
Lehua's father nudged the young man, recalling him to his duties as a guest. Ohi'a stuttered and stammered apologies, trying to continue his conversation while keeping one eye on the fair Lehua. Lehua's father was amused by the young man's obvious infatuation with his daughter. He quite liked this bold trickster, and so he offered to introduce Ohi'a to his daughter. The young man almost fell over in his haste as they walked across the clearing to where Lehua stood with her friends.
From that moment, there was no other woman for Ohi'a but Lehua. He had eyes only for her, and courted her with a passion and zeal that swiftly won her heart. Her father gave his only daughter gladly into the keeping of the strong young man, and the young couple lived quite happily for several months in a new home Ohi'a built for his bride.

It was so cold. Snow fell constantly, and ice formed over all the waters. The animals had never seen snow before. At first, it was a novelty, something to play in. But the cold increased tenfold, and they began to worry. The little animals were being buried in the snow drifts and the larger animals could hardly walk because the snow was so deep. Soon, all would perish if something were not done.
"We must send a messenger to Kijiamuh Ka'ong, the Creator Who Creates By Thinking What Will Be," said Wise Owl. "We must ask him to think the world warm again so that Spirit Snow will leave us in peace."
The animals were pleased with this plan. They began to debate among themselves, trying to decide who to send up to the Creator. Wise Owl could not see well during the daylight, so he could not go. Coyote was easily distracted and like playing tricks, so he could not be trusted. Turtle was steady and stable, but he crawled too slowly. Finally, Rainbow Crow, the most beautiful of all the birds with shimmering feathers of rainbow hues and an enchanting singing voice, was chosen to go to Kijiamuh Ka'ong.
It was an arduous journey, three days up and up into the heavens, passed the trees and clouds, beyond the sun and the moon, and even above all the stars. He was buffeted by winds and had no place to rest, but he carried bravely on until he reached Heaven. When Rainbow Crow reached the Holy Place, he called out to the Creator, but received no answer. The Creator was too busy thinking up what would be to notice even the most beautiful of birds. So Rainbow Crow began to sing his most beautiful song.

Heron and Hummingbird were very good friends, even though one was tall and gangly and awkward and one was small and sleek and fast. They both loved to eat fish. The Hummingbird preferred small fish like minnows and Heron liked the large ones.
One day, Hummingbird said to his friend: "I am not sure there are enough fish in the world for both of our kind to eat. Why don't we have a race to see which of us should own the fish?"
Heron thought that was a very good idea. They decided that they would race for four days. The finish line was an old dead tree next to a far-away river. Whichever of them sat on top of the tree first on the fourth day of the race would own all the fish in the world.
They started out the next morning. The Hummingbird zipped along, flying around and around the Heron, who was moving steadily forward, flapping his giant wings. Then Hummingbird would be distracted by the pretty flowers along the way. He would flit from one to the other, tasting the nectar. When Hummingbird noticed that Heron was ahead of him, he hurried to catch up with him, zooming ahead as fast as he could, and leaving Heron far behind. Heron just kept flying steadily forward, flapping his giant wings.
Hummingbird was tired from all his flitting. When it got dark, he decided to rest. He found a nice spot to perch and slept all night long. But Heron just kept flying steadily forward all night long, flapping his giant wings.

Spirit Lodge

The great chief Quaquahela lived in peace with his people on the banks of the River Styx where it entered the lake waters. Their lives were busy and full. The warriors hunted and fished, the women cooked and cared for the old and the young, and all lived in peace with the natural world around them.
Quaquahela determined one day to visit with a tribe far to the south of their village. He set out at dusk, paddling across the lake, and then walking inland towards the lodge of a friend, where he would spend the night before resuming his journey. He had gone only a few yards from the lake shore when he heard a terrible snarling, and a huge bear came bursting forth out of the bushes nearby. Quaquahela was well-armed with his war club and his hunting gear, but the bear was his totem, and so it was forbidden for him to kill the creature. Thus he fled back toward his canoe, intent on escape. But the enraged bear threw itself forward and knocked him to the ground.
Desperate now, Quaquahela wrestled with the bear, beating it repeatedly with his war club, trying to drive it off. Blood stained the ground from many wounds as the bear fought with the mighty chief. At last, the chief drew his knife and stabbed the bear repeatedly around the head and throat until it released him with a final, blood-chilling growl. Quaquahela crawled away from the bear and collapsed on the ground. His body was torn and broken, his wounds grievous. He turned himself over with great effort and looked toward his enemy, his totem. The bear was dead. With a moan of contrition and despair, Quaquahela's head fell back to the earth as he succumbed to his injuries. He died a moment later.

El Muerto

After getting the lay of the land, so to speak, frontier man Bigfoot Wallace moved from Austin to San Antonio, which was considered the extreme edge of the frontier, to sign up as a Texas Ranger under Jack Hayes. In them days, Texas was as wild as the west could get. There was danger from the south from the Mexicans, danger to the wet and north from the wild frontier filled with Indians and desperados, and to the east the settlements still had problems with the Cherokee Nation. General Sam Houston himself had appointed young Captain Hays, a hero from the battle of Plum Creek, to raise a company of Rangers to defend San Antonio. Hayes had high standards for his men. They were the best fighters in the west, and they had to be, considerin’ the fact that they were often outnumbered fifty to one. A man had to have courage, good character, good riding and shooting skills and a horse worth a hundred dollars to be considered for the job. Captain Hayes knew all about Bigfoot Wallace and signed him on the spot.
So armed with Colt pistol and a Bowie knife, Texas Ranger Bigfoot Wallace once more took on the Wild West, and quickly made his mark on Texas folklore. In them days, the Rangers tended to handle stock theft at the end of the rope, so to speak, stringing up the bandits, forcing a confession out of them, and then leaving the bodies swaying in the wind to deter other outlaws. Only it didn’t work, and the bandits kept right on stealing, sometimes passing right under the bodies of their fellow outlaws to do it.

It Wasn't Me

I used to work as a Cinema Technician in a 12 auditorium multiplex cinema; I worked there for about ten years. Firstly, this story does not directly involve me; however the people involved are credible and are not the type to spin fantastic yarns for no reason.
This story takes place a few years ago, as part of my job, I assemble movies by joining the reels together, once assembled, I view these films to make sure that all the joins (splices) are ok and the soundtrack and picture are all up to scratch (and I like to watch films for free). The film I was checking was Monsters Inc., a Pixar film; a projectionist was sat in the auditorium with me. After the film finished, the projectionist left and I returned to the projection booth to wait for the bulb to cool down before turning off the projector. The only people left in the building were the General Manager and a supervisor, at night they total up the days takings and count the stock; they spend the final few hours in an office next to the entrance to the Projection Booth.
The time was roughly midnight, I got on my pushbike which I leave always at the foot of the stairs on the employee entrance side of the cinema, I cycled home, and that is where this story ends for me.

A Welcome From Ben

When I was 14 my brother Dave brought home a sweet girl named Tracy who was 16 at the time, it was the first girlfriend Dave had brought home and we all tried to make her feel welcome for Dave\'s sake as he had not had much luck with girls in the past. Jump one year ahead and Tracy had their first baby and they had decided to name him Ben after the Michael Jackson song. (She was a big fan)
Ben was a happy baby and just after 3 months he was sleeping right through the night, hardly cried and would smile at anyone and anything. Tracy and Dave had moved into their first home and everything seemed to be going well until one night when Ben would not stop crying. Dave and Tracy called the doctor who said Ben had a bit of a high temperature but nothing to worry about but if it got any worse to call him out again. Feeling relieved they put Ben into his cot but left him uncovered to cool him down, after an hour or so Ben stopped crying and fell asleep after checking him one last time Dave covered Ben and went to bed. Ben died that night, cot death. No other explanation could be found he just stopped breathing.
Four years go by Tracy and Dave have 2 more children both girls but sadly Dave and Tracy split up, myself and Tracy remain good friends and she would sometimes ask me to go in to town shopping with her to help with the girls, how could I refuse anyway I was feeling broody and helping with the girls helped. It was a normal rush to get the girls ready Tracy asking me to pop up stairs to get this and that but every time she asked me to check the front door was shut properly as Elisha (Tracy\'s eldest daughter aged 3 1/2) was running around and Tracy did not want here to get out until we were ready to go. Now the door was facing the living room door and was on the inside just hardboard (unpainted). "It\'s shut just like the past 8 times you mentioned it" I told Tracy. She asked me to look at the door and tell her what I could see, "i see a plain wooden door" I said "ok now say hello towards the door then shut the living room door" Tracy said I asked why? And she said please just do it. Feeling rather stupid I did as she asked I said hello to the door then closed the living room door.

Black Cat At The Guilld Hall

Have you ever had an experience but not known it was until some time later? I have!
When I was a younger I used to like going to the various museums in Leicester, I personally liked the Guild Hall on Guild Hall Lane in the town center.
The guild hall has been used for a lot of different things a girl\'s school, a police station and jail plus royalty has lived there too.
On one visit I got chatting to one of the workers there and they told me about a bible that is left out in the library up stairs that when left closed at night is found open in the morning and about strange fallings in the old cell area, I could not wait to see if I could "feel" anything in the 2 areas.
I decided to go in side to the library first while I stood looking at the old books in the glass cases against the wall I heard some one enter the room stop and then walk out again but as I looked towards the door no one was there now; all the floors are wooden so footsteps are heard quite clearly and loudly also, the place echo's a lot.
I followed the sound out of the library towards the stairs leading to the main hall but as I got to the top of the stairs a black cat ran between my legs and down the stairs almost tripping me up, grabbing on to the rail to stop my self falling down the stairs I lost sight of the cat. Cursing it I went down the stairs and looked for the worker I had spoken to earlier to complain about the cat thinking it was dangerous to let be there. I had totally forgotten about the footsteps I had heard by this time.

Mandy's Home - 1

When I was 13 I was going out with a girl named Mandy who even though had shown me where she lived and was happy for me to call round never invited me in to her home, I thought this was a bit strange but never questioned her about it.
One morning during the summer would have been around 9.30 I knocked on Mandy\'s door to see if she was coming to the adventure playground most of the kids in the area would go to in the summer, she answered the door said she would not be long and shut the door, not long after the door opened expecting to see Mandy I turned towards the door and there was this small boy grinning up at me. "Mum said come in" he said Then ran from the front door leaving it open for me. As soon as I walked into the house I felt cold it being the summer it was t-shirt and shorts weather sunny and warm outside but in the front room it felt like I had walked into a freezer and I got goose pimples all over.
Just then I heard someone shout "in here" and I went through to the back room "that\'s for best in there" I was told by the small boy that had opened the door then a lady came in from the kitchen and introduced herself as dot (Mandy\'s mum) and told me the boy\'s name was Michael (Mandy\'s younger brother) I said hi very nice to meet you and then went into shy boy mode looking at feet, twiddling fingers not looking at people that kind of thing. Just then Mandy came down stairs and seeing me asked who let me in Michael stated laughing and dot said she asked me in. Mandy said we were going up to her room and Michael jumped up and said he was coming too so all 3 of us went up the stairs to Mandy\'s room.

African mythology of the local Tonga tribe of the Zambezi Valley states that Nyaminyami the River God who lives in Lake Kariba is believed to be a serpent-like creature. He is said to be about three metres wide, but nobody dares to guess at his length.
Legends has it that the water stains red when he swims past. Chief Sampakaruma saw him on two occasions many years ago, but the river god has been in hiding since the white men arrived in the country. According to African mythology he lived under a large rock close to the present day Kariba dam wall. No tribesman would venture near it those few who did were sucked down with their canoes in the whirlpools and never seen again. They called the rock Kariwa, the "trap" and hence the name of the lake, Kariba.

Although most bird-lovers know that the Trumpeter Hornbills of Southern Africa make their nests in hollow tree trunks, it is not everyone who knows that, once the hen has laid her eggs, her husband seals the entrance with clay. He leaves only a small slit open through which he can pass food. So she is imprisoned inside the tree trunk until the young birds are old enough to be fed from outside. Then he breaks open the hole so that she can help him feed the fledglings.
If you ask the people of Matabeleland, they will tell you that the Hornbill cannot be blamed, for his wife richly deserves her imprisonment. It all started like this they say- in the days of long, long ago. The Hornbill and his wife used to build their nest in the treetops; they used twigs, well sewn together with hair from the tails of zebra and wildebeests. Inside, the nest was plastered with clay, and was lined with the softest thistledown.

They were a happy pair. Three fine eggs lay in their snug little home. Proudly the Hornbill sought the tastiest fruits in the forest, so that his dear wife need never leave the nest and the precious eggs. To find her favourite fruits, her devoted husband searched farther and farther away, which meant that the time he was away grew longer and longer.

Pitipiti should have been a very happy woman. She was married to a rich man who had many cattle. But after years of marriage, she was still unable to give him the many children which a man like him deserved. She went to see many people in the hope that they would be able to solve her problem; but to no avail.
Day after day, she watched as her husband’s love for her faded away before her very eyes. She was very sad the day that her husband married a new wife so that he could at last have children. But she was also happy for him when she learned that his new wife had given him a child, and then another.
Each time she learned that the new wife had given birth, she went to offer the newborn a gift; yet she was refused each time. The new wife would tell her, “My husband wasted too many years with you. In just a short time, I have already given him children. Go away since no one wants your gifts!”
Pitipiti was saddened to see that her husband’s love for her that once used to shine in his eyes was slowly replaced by pride for his children. Yet, she continued to work her fields and live life the best she could in her solitude.

Visits

ver since I was about 8 or 9 I remember experiencing strange events and feeling like I was different because of them; other kids didn't have these things happen to them, or see the things I saw. My first recollection of something *odd* was waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of my mother crying. I looked over to my right; standing in the doorway was my mom. Only, she was see through, and was crying and holding a huge wooden rosary that we owned, and just looking at me, shaking her head right to left and slowly falling to the ground. This continued until she was in a sitting position on the floor and then she disappeared. I remember looking away, rubbing my eyes, literally pinching myself thinking I was dreaming. But *it* disappeared when it was good and ready. After that, things became more intense. I would have instances of sleep paralysis and there would be a ghostly woman/figure (banshee?) screaming at me and trying to grab me or attack me. I could barely move, but sometimes I managed to fight back. Every morning after I would wake up with bruises in the shape of a hand and finger prints on my arm or legs. During that time I was also having a recurring dream that I was looking out my bedroom window and God (represented by my dad) and the devil were fighting for my soul. I could see the shadows of 2 figures hitting and struggling. I remember this dream like it was yesterday, so vivid, and I was so scared that God (my dad) would lose because I wasn't sure what would happen to me... But I knew it wasn't good. This continued for years.

Man In The Bedroom

A couple years ago, my family moved into a brand new house. We were so excited to live in it, because we had moved close to family. My mom let my sister and I pick which rooms we wanted. Naturally, since I was the oldest, I wanted the bigger room. I settled into my new room, and was enjoying it. After a couple of nights after just moving in, I felt uneasy, like I was being watched. I would always find my eyes wandering over to the closet. I told my mom the next morning, and she didn't think much of it, since we had JUST moved in.
I kept on feeling watched for about 6 months. Eventually, I refused to sleep in my bedroom. I wanted to sleep with my little sister. After a while after sleeping with my little sister, my mom told me I had to go back to my old room, and my little sister was going with me. Her old bedroom became the guest bedroom. Even though I had my little sister with me in my bedroom, I still felt like I was being watched!
I told my mom, and she told me I could move into my sister's old bedroom, which was at that time the guestroom. I slept in the guestroom for a couple of nights, and decided I liked it. It became my new bedroom. I was so excited, because in this bedroom, I didn't have the feeling of being watched.
After settling into my new bedroom, I became fascinated with the "Other Side." My sister and I were talking about it one night, and out of nowhere, she says, "There is a man in my room near the closet." I immediately ran to my mom, where she was reading in bed.

Joaquin Murietta: Bandit of the Goldfields

Joaquin Murietta and wife Rosita lived with his older brother Carlos in California. The three Mexican immigrants were living on a small, successful farm and the men were also working a claim near Hangtown. However, the other miners living nearby tried to run them off, telling them that it was illegal for Mexicans to pan for gold or hold a claim. The Murietta brother's ignored their threats and continued to live peacefully on their farm and work in the gold-fields.
Enraged by this flagrant disregard for the American laws, a drunken mob attacked the little family late one night, shooting Carlos, and then ravishing and murdering Rosita while Joaquin was forced to watch. The mob bound the Mexican to a stake in the yard, where they beat him with a whip. He strained angrily against his bonds, but finally his wounds overcame him and he slumped senseless against the post. The mob left him for dead, but when a few sober citizens came the next day to help the Mexican family, Joaquin was already gone.
A few months later, a dark-bearded, long-haired stranger with cold black eyes set up a gambling establishment in Hangtown. Shortly after the stranger's arrival in town, miners started going missing, one after another, and their dead bodies were turning up in unlikely places. All of them had their ears cut off. A few of the smarter folks realized that each of the dead miners had been a party to the illegal slaying of Carlos and Rosita Murietta. There were thirty-one men in the mob that night, and fourteen were now dead. When this became known, the other seventeen men scattered to the winds overnight; but one by one, they were hunted down, killed, and their ears were cut off.

Hold Him, Tabb

Yep, I remember what it was like before the railroad came through these parts. I used to earn my living by carting supplies from town to town on horse-drawn wagons. Not easy work, no sir. Especially in winter. One cold December day, I was traveling with my buddy Tabb, when it began to snow. Gee wilikers, it was cold! We needed to find shelter quick, and I was delighted when I spotted an abandoned house.
We thought we were real lucky, finding such a good shelter. As we unhitched the horses, a fellow stopped by to talk to us. Claimed he was the owner of the property. Told us we were welcome to stay but the house was haunted.
The owner said that no one who had ever stayed in that house had made it out alive. That was good enough for me. I hitched Ol’ Betsy back up to the wagon and moved up the road to a stand of trees that offered some shelter from the snow. Tabb said he wasn’t afraid of no ghosts, and he didn’t plan on perishing in the snow. I wasn’t about to risk my neck in a haunted house. I built a fire as best I could and waited through the long night, wondering a couple of times if Tabb wasn’t the smart one.

Trapper's Ghost

There once was a trapper who roamed the wilds of Labrador on a sleigh pulled by eight pure white Huskies. He was a tall man, dressed in layer upon layer of animal skins, who drove his team with a terrible ferocity across the frozen tundra.
The trapper was a cruel man, and the people in the local towns did not like him, though they tolerated his company when he came to town because of the rich animal skins he brought with him. When he came to a town, the trapper would sell his skins and then drink away his money at the local tavern. When he wasn't drunk himself, the trapper assaulted the local women, picked fights with the hard-working townsmen, and tried to sell alcohol to the natives. After a few days of such behavior, the constable would toss the trapper out on his ear. Then the trapper would resume his roaming and trapping until he came to another town.
No one knows exactly how the trapper met his fate, although it was rumored that he went a little too far in his pursuit of a local innkeeper's fair wife and was shot to death by her disgruntled husband. Other folks say he lived to an old age and died out on the trail. But it swiftly became clear that death did not end the roaming of the cruel trapper.

The Ghost that Followed Me Home

I have a fascination with genealogy, which is what started all the trouble. My next-door neighbor and I were fellow hobbyists, and we often supported each others search for long-lost ancestors. We would spend hours pouring over stacks of dusty country records, wandering through poison-ivy strewn graveyards, and getting lost on back lanes trying to find the homes of retirees who remembered what our forbearers were like way back when.
On this particular day, we were traveling to a distant graveyard which conveniently happened to contain the graves of ancestors from both of our (completely unrelated) families. Cheryl's great-great-aunt and her other kin were quite easy to find, but we had to search high and low before we found the tomb of my third-cousin-once-removed, one Samuel Beauregard Smith. I took a rubbing, recorded his information into one of my copious notebooks, and then stood examining the fancy stone for a few moments.
"No expense spared here," I said to Cheryl.
"Either someone really loved him, or someone was glad to see him go," Cheryl agreed with a grin. "Do you have any idea which it was?"
"Nope. I just found out about his existence last Friday," I replied.
We packed up our stuff after that, lunched at a quaint little tea house in the vicinity, and then went home. The early evening proceeded normally; at least, it did until I heard the squeak the front door made when it opened. I knew I had shut the door firmly when I came in, and I was pretty sure I'd locked it, but when I went into the hallway, the door was wide open, as if someone had just walked in.

The Flying Canoe

Long ago, there were a number of lonely lumberjacks working in the center of a very large forest. They cut down mammoth trees and watched them crash into the thick snow in exactly the place where they said the trees would land. They would cut up the trees and haul them hither and thither. They worked hard, Mon Dieu, very hard indeed! But they were lonely for the women they had left behind.
On New Years Day, it snowed so hard no work could be done. The men huddled in their camp and spoke longingly of their home. They passed around the rum and drank toasts to the New Year, but finally Baptiste said what they were all thinking: "I wish to go home today and see my girl!" There were murmurs of agreement, but Jean replied: "How can we go home today? There is more than two meters of snow on the road, and more snow is falling."
"Who said we were walking out of here?" asked Baptiste. "I am going to paddle out in my canoe." Now the men all knew that Baptiste had a canoe with paddles out back of the camp. Baptiste had made a pact with the devil. If the devil would make the canoe fly wherever Baptiste wished, the lumberjack would not say Mass for an entire year. However, if Baptiste did not return the canoe before dawn of the day after he used it, the devil could keep his soul. While Baptiste and his companions were in la chasse-gallerie, they could not say the name of God or fly over a church or touch any crosses, or the canoe would crash.

The Devil and the Werewolves

Now there once was a man named Jean Dubroise who never did a lick of work, but his house and his barn and his crops were still the best in the whole land. This puzzled people, since Jean had no family and no hired men to help him. No one could figure out how he managed to have the best trapping lines in winter, and have fences and barns in perfect repair at all times with no one working his farm.
Odder still were the reports of a roaring sound that came from Jean Dubroise's property late at night when good, God-fearing people should be sleeping. His neighbors started avoiding the place, and folks in town would hurry to the other side of the road rather than meet Jean when they saw him coming.
One night, Dubroise's next door neighbor, Alphonse, had a bit too much to drink. Alphonse decided that he would dare the strange noises and take a short-cut across Dubroise's land to get home. As he was weaving his way through the fields, he heard a loud roaring noise from overhead. Alphonse threw himself flat on the ground and saw a huge canoe flying over him. The canoe landed on the ground in the clearing next to Dubroise house and the Devil jumped out with a whip in his hand.

The Phelps place was an old, abandoned property with a monstrous, decrepit Victorian house that was supposed to be haunted. It should have been a good resting place for the local deer hunters, but they would not go near it. A few that tried came away before midnight with tales of ghostly thumping noises, gasps, moans, and a terrible wet bloodstain that appeared on the floor of the front porch and could not be wiped away.
Phelps was an Englishman who had purchased land some 20 miles off the Mendocino coast in the 1880s. He had built a huge, fancy Victorian house all covered with gingerbread trimmings and surrounded by lovely gardens. When everything was arranged to his liking, he sent out party invitations to everyone within messenger range. It was the biggest social event of the year, with music and dancing and huge amounts of food. Sawhorse tables were set up with refreshments, and drinks were set out on the front porch. People came from miles around. The only one missing was old man McInturf's son-in-law. They had had a terrible fight that afternoon, and the boy had stalked off in a rage, threatening to get even with the old man.

That Pesky Fellow

A fisherman from Newfoundland was having difficulty finding someone to assist him. Help was scarce, and he couldn't find a soul to hire. Then one day he saw a handsome fellow in fancy city clothes walking along the docks. This was obviously not a man looking for work, but the fisherman still called out, half in jest: "Are ye looking for some work?" To his surprise, the city-man nodded and jumped into the boat.
They agreed to split the catch into three parts, one for the city-man, one for expenses, and one for the fisherman. Then they set out in the boat. At first, the skipper caught three fish to every fish caught by the city-man. He was quite disgusted with this performance. At this rate, he would have done better fishing alone. So he said: "Am I supposed to catch all the fish for you? Why don't you catch some?"
"Well then, if it's fish your looking for," said the pesky stranger. "How about these?" He grabbed the fish gaff and smacked the port side of the vessel three times. "Come aboard, fish!" he shouted. Immediately, fish of every shape and size came leaping out of the water on the port side and flopped into the bottom of the boat. The stranger then hit the starboard side of the boat three times, and fish came hopping and flopping in from that direction until the boat was so full the skipper could barely see the stranger over the mound of fish.
"Stop or you'll drown us both!" he shouted to the city-man. Well, that pesky city-fellow held up the fish-gaff and immediately the fish stopped jumping into the boat.

Suicide

I heard the neighbor's car running in the garage as I got into my car to drive to the grocery store. That seemed a bit odd, since it was summertime. Why would they need to warm it up? I shrugged the thought away and drove to the store. An hour later, I heard the car again as I unpacked the groceries from the trunk. I frowned. Maybe they'd just gotten back? I couldn't see anything because the garage door was closed.
As I was putting the groceries away, my mother phoned about some arrangements for my son's third birthday party. We talked for nearly an hour. Then I ran back out to the car to get a bag I'd forgotten. And heard my neighbor's car again. Maybe they forgot it was still running? I walked over to their house and rang the doorbell repeatedly. No answer.
Now I was getting worried. There was no sign of anyone home, and normally the kids would be out playing in the backyard with their father at this time of day. I phoned the house. No answer. I phoned both parents' cell phones. I got voice mail. I couldn't leave things there. A car running in a closed garage was dangerous. Reluctantly, I called the police and explained the situation. They sent someone over.

I’ve always been very “connected” to my mother, if you know what I mean… When we had this experience, my mom had asked me to stay at her house while she went to another city to take care of one of my brothers who was having an operation, his wife had to work, so my mom needed to go and take care of him while he recuperated. I moved in to the house with my two kids.
After about three months, My mother called and said she was flying back in a midnight flight and I said I’d go pick her up. We got home after 1 am and since I had to go to work the next day, we didn’t stay up to talk and catch up on all the family, as we usually did. I’m the only one that lives in this particular city, besides my mom and dad, at the time.
The next morning when I got up, I told my mom I’d had the strangest dream… she asked me to tell her about it while we had our morning coffee and I got ready for work.
I dreamt that it was last night, when we’d gotten back from the airport and that we sat and talked as always and after she brought me up to date on all the family, she took my hand over the kitchen table and said that she had something to tell me and knew that it was gonna make me very sad, but that she’d only come to tell me she was leaving… that my dad had bought a house and they wanted me to stay in this house because it was the family home and they couldn’t rent it or sell it and I said ok.
In my dream, after she left, I started seeing this little girl, about 5 years old with long light brown hair and a white old fashioned dress, with a ruffle at the bottom. I was very mad at my mom in the dream because she had not told me that someone else lived in the house. I saw the girl everywhere! but what really upset me was that she ignored me, I would speak to her, ask her who she was and she always acted like she couldn’t hear me! the dream went on. I was in a room where all the walls were painted a very vivid and bright blue, watching TV with my children and out of the corner of my eye, I could see, on a small wooden shelf on the right hand corner of the room, close to the ceiling, that the little girl was sitting there, just placidly swinging her legs! The ledge or shelf had 3 pull out wooden steps, – like the type that you pull down from the ceiling in old houses that have a “door” to the attic – and there was a “door” there or more like, a piece of plywood covering an opening. Of course the little girl ignored me when I told her she better come down from there or she would fall and hurt herself.

Girl in the Mirror

When I was in college, I would take summer classes in my university in the Philippines called Ateneo de Manila University. Being a 150 year old university, it is full of history and atmosphere.
During the summer, the girls would move into the third floor of the boys’ dorm called Cervini Hall. So it was there that my friends Kat, Michelle and I spent our summer. I remember clearly that we were in room 304.
As previously stated, the Ateneo is an old school and it was used as prison camp during World War II. In any case, we’ve already heard many ghost stories from many people in campus. But none of us had really come close to experiencing any. Until that summer. It was the summer before we became juniors or seniors. If I recall it was the summer that Aladdin came out in the cinemas.
Anyway, we had heard rumors that our room, was quite the infamous room. Many people have told us that there were ghosts in that room. But again at first none of us felt anything. In any case, the entire Cervini Hall was rumored to be haunted, so we didn’t think much of it.
However, after a few days of being in the room, we started experiencing strange things. First of all we would notice that even when we left our door unlocked, when any of us would come back, we would find it locked. Our rooms door did not have a lock that you latched or pressed or chained. It was one of those old fashioned doors that you had to lock with a key from the inside to lock it. Because of this, whenever someone was inside we roomies had a habit of leaving it unlocked. However the next person to come in would still find it locked.

Arnold in my Head

What I am about to reveal will make me seem like a freak, so I won't state my name. I am fourteen years old and am a "jock football and boxer" type of guy. I am solidly built; I work out nearly every night—have been since I was ten years old.

This weird thing first started on October 16, around 6 o'clock in the evening; I was twelve years old then. I was midway in my lat pulldowns when I heard a voice in my head. It was loud, and it had a German accent—like Arnold the Terminator.

"I CAN LIFT MORE THAN YOU, LITTLE BOY!" He said.

The voice was so loud it startled me. I let go of the pullbar and pressed tightly onto my ears with both hands. The voice was ‘that' loud. Obviously, letting go of the pullbar meant the weights plates came crashing down—"Bam!" As the iron plates crashed onto the ones below, the locking pin somehow slipped out from the plates' keyhole and landed on the floor. Reposing myself after the shock, I went round the back and picked up the pin. As I was about to insert the pin back into plates' keyhole, I heard the voice again.

"PUT ON TWICE AS MUCH AS YOU HAD ON!"

Mona Lisa

Six years ago, my grandmother bought a copy painting of Mona Lisa. She had it hung on the wall of one of the rooms in her house. It was beautiful, just like the original. My mother and I stared at it for a long time. It seemed to communicate with us somehow. I can't explain it.

A year later, my mother died and I became very lonely. I was 17 then, and didn't want to stay alone, so I moved into my grandmother's place. My grandmother gave me the room which had the Mona Lisa painting hanging on the wall.

The first night, I lay in bed and stared at the painting for a long time. The longer I stared at it, the eerier her smile became—her smile seemed to widen. I gasped in horror when I saw it. I quickly turned on my side and placed a pillow over my head. I began to pray. I don't know how long I prayed. I guess until I fell asleep.

Every night, I faced the Mona Lisa; the wall was just few feet from the foot of my bed. I got used to her and her eerie smile, and soon was able to sleep soundly even with her staring at me. But one particular night, things changed—I heard something. There were words coming out of the painting. “An, my An.” It said. My eyes just opened wide, and I felt a cold tingle going through my body. I quickly rushed out of bed and ran out of the room. My grandmother was sound asleep. I didn't want to wake her up so I sat on the sofa in the living room. I thought about the words that I heard and convinced myself that they were my own imagination. Reluctantly, I walked back to my room and jumped into bed without looking at the Mona Lisa. I pulled the sheets up and covered my face. I prayed, and prayed until I fell asleep.

Playin' Piano

Dah-dah-dum-dum-BLAT! Charlie winced when his wife hit the wrong note on the piano for the thirty-second time that day. He knew it was the thirty-second time because he’d kept count as he went about his daily chores, cleaning the lighthouse, checking the supplies, mending the rowboat. Charlie blamed himself for his wife's latest obsession. He should never have taken Myrtle to attend the concert when that high-flutin’ concert pianist came to town. But it was a special occasion and everyone they knew was going. So Charlie and Myrtle went too. And Myrtle decided right then and there that what she wanted more than life itself was to play the piano. Charlie tried to talk her out of it. No one in Myrtle’s family was any good at music. But Myrtle was stubborn. If she couldn’t find a dad-gum way, she’d make one! Before Charlie could count to ten she’d bought a cheap, used piano (that was always out of tune) and hauled it over to the island on her brother Jamie’s fishing boat. From that day on, it was practice, practice, practice. Morning, noon, and night Myrtle sat at the piano with her piano book open, plunking away at the keys. At first, there was not much to hear, and Charlie could ignore the sour sounds. But after a few months, she got better…and a lot worse. There were parts of her song that sounded pretty good; but she never, ever got that one line right.

There is only one word for Fort Mifflin during a siege reenactment. LOUD! My ears were ringing as I hurried inside the ammunition mound, according to my assigned role. The mound muffled the sound of canons a little bit. But I still reckoned I'd be deaf all day tomorrow!
The air grew chillier as I moved deeper into the mound. It felt as if I'd entered a cavern, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I rubbed my neck, trying to make the feeling go away, and shivered as another gust of cold air hit my face. I was freezing cold in spite of my heavy Revolutionary uniform, and I almost turned and left the mound in spite of my errand when I heard someone crying at the very back of the mound.
I hurried to the sound, and saw a boy curled up into a ball, crying hard because he was scared by the sound of the cannons. I couldn't blame him.
"Are you lost?" I asked him. "Shall I get your parents?"
He didn't seem to see me, and he kept crying into his tattered sleeve. His costume looked even more realistic than mine, down to the poor dirty little bare feet.

There was once a railroad conductor named Joe Baldwin who was working for the newly rebuilt Atlantic Coast line. The year was 1867, and the railroad had expanded to include a small station in Maco, North Carolina. Joe was assigned to the very last car in the train, and he executed his conductor duties to the best of his abilities aboard his assigned car. Then one night, something went wrong. Terribly wrong. The train was heading down the line toward the tiny Maco station when Joe’s car started to slow down dramatically. Worried, Joe went forward to see what was happening, and realized that his car had come decoupled from the rest of the train. Joe’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw the retreating lights of the train disappearing into the distance. His car was stuck on the tracks, and another train was following close behind them! With a shout of dismay, Joe grabbed his signal lantern and frantically ran the length of the car. Bursting out of the back door, he ran out on the rear platform. Yes, he could see the next train speeding toward them down the track. By the look of it, the engineer had not realized the danger! Joe leaned over the rail, desperately signaling for the engineer in the following train to stop. But the train barreled forward, speed unabated. Joe realized that the engineer must not have seen his signal light – or perhaps had not realized its significance. He kept waving the lantern frantically from side to side, shouting in vain over the huge rumbling force of the oncoming train. The engine grew larger and larger, and Joe’s heart was in his throat as he realized the train was not going to stop.

Once upon a time there lived in the highland of northern Vietnam a boy orphaned of both his mother and father. He lived with his little sister in a small cottage on the slopes of a hill.

Every day at early dawn he went to the forest not far from his house to chop wood. He took the wood to the market to sell for food and provisions. The rest of the day he devoted to his little sister, whom he cherished and cared for lovingly.

The brother and sister were very happy in their small cottage, until, one day, a stranger arrived. The newcomer was an old man, who, passing by the place one evening, asked for lodging.

When the brother learned that the stranger was a prophet, he eagerly requested his guest to foretell the future. The old man referred to his book and told the boy: "The date and hour of your birth most certainly indicate that you will some day marry your own sister."

The old man continued: "It is irrevocable. No-one can act against his fate." The boy regarded the old man's words as nonsense and did not care about them any more.

One nice day, the young man brought his sister with him to the forests. There, the little girl was watching and listening to the birds, while her brother chopped wood.

Lincoln Death Train

I'd been transferred to the Hudson Division of the New York Central system, and was working the rails on the main line between New York and Albany. I was on the late shift to start with, since I was a bit of a night owl. After six weeks of stomping the tracks and mending the rails, I was feeling right at home in my new job.
Then, just before midnight on a clear spring night in late April, we got a report of some brush on the track near our station. I was sent out immediately to clear it away before the next train came. I had nearly an hour before the next train, and so I did not hurry as I walked along the rails. It was surprisingly pleasant and rather warm. Overhead, the clouds were obscuring the moon, but the light from my lantern made a cheerful glow in the night.
Suddenly, a chilly wind swept over the rails with a whoosh, like a wind just before a thunderstorm. It was so strong that it nearly knocked me over. I staggered backward, swearing and wind-milling my arms to try to keep my balance. I almost dropped the lantern, but managed to get my balance just before it slipped out of my hand.

Henry Hudson and the Catskill Gnomes

On September 3rd of 1609, Henry Hudson sailed the Half Moon into the mouth of the great New York river that later bore his name. The explorer and his crew journeyed north for several days, trading with the native residents and searching for the fabled northwest passage to the Orient. By the time he reached the area that would become present-day Albany, Hudson knew that he had not found the passage for which he sought. Reluctantly, he turned the Half Moon and sailed back down the river.
That night, Henry Hudson and his crew anchored the Half Moon in the shadow of the Catskill Mountains. Around midnight, Hudson heard the sound of music floating across the mountains and down to the river. Taking a few members of his crew, he went ashore and followed the sound up and up into the Catskills. The sound of the music grew louder as Hudson and his men marched up to the edge of a precipice. To their astonishment, a group of pygmies with long, bushy beards and eyes like pigs were dancing and singing and capering about in the firelight.

Soul move

Very long ago, there lived a young man named Truong Ba who was very good at Chinese chess. Truong Ba's fame as a chess player spread far and wide, throughout Vietnam and even China.

At that time, the Chinese chess champion was a man named Ky Nhu. When he heard of Truong Ba, Ky Nhu set off to Vietnam to challenge his rival to a game. They played two games, each of which ended in a draw. During the third game, Ky Nhu got into trouble. Seeing that his opponent was trapped, Truong Ba said haughtily: "Even the Chess Deity De Thich could not find a way out of my moves."

Upon hearing Truong Ea's words, the Chess Deity decided to teach the young man a lesson. As Truong Ba and Ky Nhu sat hunched over the chessboard, an old man came to sit nearby. This old fellow made a suggestion to Ky Nhu, who followed his advice and won a dazzling victory.

Truong Ba was furious but, seeing the old man's glowing white beard, it occurred to him that he might be a god. To play it safe, Truong Ba sank down on one knee before the old man and said: "You must be De Thich. I am terribly sorry."

First Day of School

She was brand-new history teacher to the school and had been preparing her first lesson in her mind for weeks. This was her very first teaching job, and she wanted it to go well. The night before classes began, she couldn't eat and tossed and turned restlessly all night. Up early, she was in her new classroom, sweeping the floor, tidying the desks, and putting up welcome signs just after dawn.
Finally -- FINALLY -- the first bell rang and her very first class came rushing in through the door. They were eager and lively and full of high spirits. She felt her heart lift at the sight of their fresh faces, and soon a lively dialogue between teacher and new students was established. They liked her, she could tell. And they were smart too. She tossed review questions lightly at them to see how much information they'd retained from the previous grade, and they were prompt to answer. And most of the answers were correct.
One particular lad, sitting in one of the front desks, was particularly knowledgable about history. She was impressed by his answers, and more impressed by the fact that he did not push himself forward as the class "know it all". He answered quickly and quietly, and let others take their turns. He had bright blue eyes and curly dark hair, and his smile was impish. He smiled alot, soaking in information like a sponge. The teacher smiled at him and tossed out another history question, seemingly at random, which he answered promptly after a pause indicated no one else knew how to respond.

Everyone in Vietnam has heard the gecko's call but few remember how the tiny lizard got its voice.

Long ago, there lived a man named Gecko, who, together with his wife, survived by begging. They were a frugal pair and, despite their poverty, managed to put aside a tiny portion of the food or money they were given. Eventually, their savings added up and Gecko took great pleasure in courting his hidden nest-egg.

One evening, on his way home, Gecko saw two water buffaloes fighting: "This is a sign," he told his wife, "A terrible storm is approaching. Can't you feel it in your bones?" Following his hunch, Gecko took their savings and bought bags of rice.

Sure enough, a typhoon hit the next day. The river overflowed its banks and still the rain continued. Crops, livestock, houses and even a few unlucky villagers were swept away by the flood's fury. When the skies finally cleaned, the fields were in ruins; there would be no harvest that autumn.

The village, normally so prosperous, had a new resident: Hunger had moved in, and only Gecko welcomed his arrival. Finally, when the price of rice had climbed to ten times its usual value, he brought out his hidden bags of grain. "We are rich," he laughed, clapping his wife on the back. "I'll lend you money to rebuild your houses," he told his neighbours, and then proceeded to charge outrageous interest rates.

As Gecko's wealth increased, so did his greed. He opened a pawn shop, befriended pirates and thieves, and took to reselling stolen property.

Once upon a time, there lived a merchant named Van Lich. One of the richest men of his generation, Van Lich owned nearly one hundred trading ships, all of which were laden with furniture crafted from solid silver and gold.

Despite Van Lich's wealth, he was unhappy. His business forced him to travel a great deal and, during these trips, he suspected that his wife, the young and beautiful Mai Thi, was unfaithful.

One day, Van Lich's ship cast anchor in a lonely river. A fisherman approached Mai Thi, who was sitting on the prow, and asked her for a quid of betel. Feeling sorry for this poor fisherman, Mai Thi gladly gave him some betel.

Seeing this, Van Lich flew into a jealous rage. When the fisherman had gone, he ordered his wife to leave. Carrying the one bar of gold and one bar of silver given to her by her enraged husband, Mai Thi set off down the shore. She had not gone far when she met the fisherman. Mai Thi sobbed as she told her story to the astonished fisherman.

"My husband thought that I was in love with you," cried Mai Thi.

Senawang Ghosts

Our convoy was making its way down from Malaysia back to Singapore. I looked at my watch, it was 4:30pm. I was in my brother's car with my mother and he was driving.

Suddenly, unexpectingly, smoke came oozing out of the corners of the car's bonnet - the car’s engine was heating up. We had to pull over to the road shoulder.
Our friends in the other cars proceeded on. They couldn't afford to be delayed, for their children had to go to school early the next morning.

There we were, the three of us stranded somewhere in Senawang.
While waiting for the car to cool down, some of the locals, looking to make a quick buck, came by and offered help. Of course, there was nothing they could do, for ours was a continental car - only our mechanic in Singapore would know what to do. I called him on my mobile phone and relayed to him our predicament. He said, regretfully, he could only come there not earlier than 1am.

If it wasn't for our old and sick mother, we would have walked some two kilometers to the guest house we saw earlier. Hence, we remained where we were. The day was slowly dusking and we were cold, tired, hungry and I was bursting to go to the toilet. At that time, the locals have returned home and there were hardly cars driving by. We were very alone.

The Fruit Lady

Ram was late. We waited, Milkha and I, patiently at Newton circus food center in Singapore. We talked excitedly about our planned trip – the things we were going to do and how much fun we would have doing them. We had planned to travel to Thailand via Malaysia. We would stop at a few places in Malaysia, then leave the jeep at the Thai-Malaysia border and take the train up to Hatyai, Thailand. The anticipation was electrifying!

He arrived; 20 minutes late. Wished we could have kicked his butt, but his wife was there with him. Saved by his wife, that devil!

After some food and drinks, we got ourselves in the jeep. It was cramped but still comfortable. Ram took the wheel and was about to inaugurated the journey when we heard someone calling. “Ram! Ram!”

It was his wife. She was running after us with a blue pail in her hand.

“What the hell is that?” I asked laughingly.

I had a possessed old wall clock. It would function normally but whence came midnight, it would stop. All I had to do was push the pendulum to swing and it would work again - until come midnight, of course.
At first I thought it could be the positions of the hands at midnight that could be brushing on each other, causing friction, hence the jam. But then, at midday when the mechanism worked exactly like it would at midnight, the clock never stopped.
I was puzzled so I decided to send the clock to my friend, Mohammed, who is a very skillful watch repairman. After a day, Mohammed rang me up and advised me to take the clock back. "A strange thing happened," he said. "The clock, upon midnight, started to 'ding-dong non stop'". Those were his exact words. He had to manually stop the pendulum from swinging, to stop the clanging. Obviously, I was tickled.
At the shop, Mohammed was looking tired and a little spooked. He said in Malay, "Jam kau masuk hantu, lah" - (Your clock is possessed by an evil spirit) He told me to throw it away but I couldn't, it was my late father's favourite clock. I remember the day my father brought this clock home. He was so proud of it. He hung it on the wall and dusted it everyday. He would wind it every month without fail. He never let the clock stop, not even once.

Phantom Drummer

Now when Colonel Howell of the British Army chanced to meet the daughter of the wealthy farmer Jarrett, who owned land near Valley Forge, he fell head-over-heels in love. Howell had a bit of a reputation as a womanizer, but it faded away after he met Ruth. The girl had a brother serving under Washington and none of her family liked the red coats, but so overwhelming was Howell's love for her that it conquered the reluctant maiden's heart.
Ruth and her British soldier met in a secret place near the wall of her garden, which was hidden by a small grove of trees. On the night that Howell proposed, they were standing near the wall when the sharp, merry sound of a drummer rang through the garden. At first they ignored the noise, caught up in their plans for the future, but as the sound of the drum grew nearer, Howell started looking about nervously and even peering over the wall, trying to see the drummer.
Ruth was puzzled by Howell's reaction. No one could see them in this little grove, which was why they used it for their trysts.
"What is wrong?" she cried, hurrying to him.
"There is no one there," Howell told Ruth hoarsely.

Aussie Cop and the Aborigine Ghosts

A reddish haze had formed as the strong wind blew the sands off the dry barren earth from both sides of the road. I found myself speeding right through the reddish haze with my BMW K1100 police patrol bike. The tiny grains of sand bombarded my helmet visor with consistent sizzle, and occasionally, summer flies slapped my visor with a splat. In the wind, the sludge of the crushed flies slid off to the sides of my visor, forming networks of wrinkle-like trails.

Soon, my visor had collected enough filth from the dust, flies, and oil from the exhaust of other cars, that it became hard to see anything. So, I turned into a less travelled road as soon as I saw one and stopped at the side of it.

The quieter road was much cooler; there were plenty of shrubs and trees lining the sides of the road. I took my helmet off and placed it on the BMW's tank, then I removed my gloves and fanned my face with one. With the other hand, I removed my sunnies and slip them into my shirt pocket. I then reached for my water bottle, which was only slightly colder than the surrounding midday air.

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