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.

The Fruit Lady

The Old Wall Clock

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.

The Old Wall Clock

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.

Phantom Drummer

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.

Aussie Cop and the Aborigine Ghosts

My Invisible Master

My name is Michelle. I am 35 years old today - the 7th of October 2003. I decided to write to you today because I have been freed—freed by my invisible master. I'm taking a huge risk writing this – but, I NEED to off-load!

Now, about my invisible master:

He first appeared to me when I was 6 years old.

One day, my mom took me out shopping. She left me alone to keep an eye on the shopping bags while she went to relieve herself in the supermarket loo. While standing there guarding the groceries, I heard a strong and deep commanding voice in my head.

“What are you doing here all alone, little girl?” It said from behind me.

I turned around and there stood this big, ominous stranger. I was immediately captivated by his perfect black physique and a shinny round bald head. I stood there scared, and could not move or say anything.

“I want to be your friend. Is that alright?” he asked politely.

I simply nodded and managed a weak smile. He stooped down to my level and kissed my lips. At that point, I wanted to cry because my mother had always warned me against men kissing or touching me. She said it was wrong. I thought then that I was doing something wrong. But I couldn't cry because I was frozen stiff by his sheer presence. He said he wanted to be with me and would give me anything I wanted if I accepted him as a friend forever. To this day (I don't know why) I felt compelled to accept. When I did, our friendship began.

When my mother returned she didn't even notice Albach standing beside me. I was astonished, but somehow I knew he was only for my eyes.

Since that day, Albach had been my invisible friend. He would play with me, protect me from everyone, and introduced me to my body. He often told me how beautiful my body was and that I should love it as much as he did. I was confused and I didn't like talking about it but Albach knew how to make me submit. He just had to put his finger against my lips and say “ Sssssh, ” and I would allow him whatever he wanted.

As time went by, I became comfortable about talking about my body with him. I treated it as a game. Albach never touched me though, he only kissed my lips and face.

My Invisible Master

ZOZO the Ouija Demon

My name is Darren and I am from Tulsa, Oklahoma. I am currently 40 years old, and have held a fascination with the occult since an early age. I have had many bizarre experiences with Ouija boards and I am writing this as a warning to people that bad things can happen because of these “portals.”
Parker brothers doesn’t care if a demon possesses you, or if you come under some type of attack from something you know nothing about. The majority of people from The United States holds a skeptical view regarding the scientific evidence of spirits or ghosts, and many people who believe in these things also believe that it is for this very reason that ghosts and poltergeists occur here and exist “under the radar” so to speak. These Ouija boards are manufactured under the precept that they are mere “toys.” Let me tell you first hand that THEY ARE NOT TOYS, and should be used with strict caution, and probably should not be messed with AT ALL. Other countries take a more open minded view of spirits, demons, and ghosts, and many many cultures have based entire religions from these beliefs.
During my experiences with Ouija boards one particular spirit always seemed compelled to make it’s presence known. It’s name is ZOZO. Today I refuse to even pronounce it’s name as I believe the mere pronunciation of it can cause it to manifest itself. Too many times to count, it has at first pretended to be a nice spirit, or pretend to be whomever I was trying to contact. But eventually it showed it’s true self, cussing me, threatening me and others present in the room. Once it actually cussed me using what looked like Latin or Hebrew, and using biblical terminology. I was genuinely fascinated and startled by how many times ZOZO showed up, even in many different states and many different Ouija boards. It always wound up being very nasty and commented freely about how it wanted to posses my girlfriends and take them to paradise.

ZOZO the Ouija Demon

Going Courting

J. Dawson had two goals in life: to find a rich vein of gold and to find a bride. So far, he hadn’t had any luck either with the gold or the ladies. His smooth, eastern manners seemed rather sissy and irritating among the rough miners and rowdy residents of a wild western town. He’d courted the schoolteacher, the local farmers’ daughters, and even took to visiting a few of the other entertainers at the saloon. All to no avail.
Then one day, J. Dawson’s lifeless body was found at the bottom of a cliff. He had fallen several hundred feet off the mountain, where he was prospecting for gold. He was buried in Buckskin cemetery with a small service and everyone forgot about him.  Until two days after the funeral, the sheriff found the remains of J. Dawson in the local saloon, lying in the bed of a lady of the evening that he had courted a few months back. She had been sleeping off another busy night when she awoke to find J. Dawson’s remains beside her. The sheriff calmed the hysterical woman and then took J. Dawson back to the graveyard to bury him again.
Naturally, no one knew anything. The miners avowed their innocence, and the shopkeepers and businessmen claimed their ignorance. The town treated the matter as a joke, speculating privately on who had dug up poor old J. Dawson.  Three days later, J. Dawson was found at the schoolhouse. He was propped against the doorpost, a love note addressed to the teacher in his hand. After being dead a week, he was not a pretty sight. The sheriff removed the corpse a second time, and had the body buried as deeply as possible. He piled heavy stones atop the grave, and J. Dawson remained in his grave for several weeks.

Going Courting