One evening, I was sleeping. The bed shifted like someone had sat on the edge, so I looked up to find dead air. BUT, there was an indention in the covers and mattress, as though a butt were planted firmly in the spot. Let's just say I got the hell out of dodge on that one.
Incident Two: My husband was in the Army, and we had moved to Mannheim, Germany for four years. Fantastic place, let me tell you. I loved it there. We lived in an apartment building on the base. The buildings had been reconstructed over a site of a WWII bombing.
This is actually several incidents. We lived on the top floor, though right above us was a storage room type deal. It had no walls, no windows. For a solid three weeks, I would hear boots on the floor. They always followed the same pattern: Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, main stairwell. It drove me nuts, because I knew no one lived above us, and every single soldier in our stairwell was deployed.
One morning, I got up to follow the steps. Stupid me, right? It was about four in the morning, and I walked with them from the bedroom to the bathroom. When it headed for the kitchen, I ran to my peephole. We had a box to turn on the light in the stairwell and buzz people in. I flicked on the light as the steps began to descend. Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp. They passed right by my door, but nothing could be seen. I never got out of bed with those feet again.
THEN, there was a little girl who made two appearances. My husband saw her out of the corner of his eye one morning, though he denies it now. My mom also saw the child, peeking around the corner to watch my daughter and her friend play. When we were moving stateside, my daughter looked at me and said: "Hey, mommy. Do you remember the little girl I played with who came out from under my bed?" Sweet mercy, I almost had a heart attack. There's a few more incidents, but one still gives me the chills so I'm not going to discuss that one.
Incident Three: We moved to El Paso, Texas after that and stayed there for five years. When we first moved in, I would hear a cat meowing through the house, though we had no pets at the time. We got a dog a few weeks later, and she dug up some animal bones in the backyard.
When my husband was deployed one of his multiple times, I was sitting on the couch watching TV. My kids were tucked in bed, and all was quiet. But I had this eerie feeling of being watched, so I glanced up to see my daughter standing at the stairwell. "Ashleigh," I said. "What are you doing up?" She didn't answer, just turned around and walked away.
This struck me as curious, so I went up to make sure she was okay. And what did I find? My daughter, dead asleep, still tucked in where I'd left her. Come to think of it, she didn't own a little nightgown like the child had on. We had a time where my son would go into the bathroom and dump the shampoo in the sink to play with. One day, I was sitting on the couch and my mom told me she'd just seen Peyton walk into the bathroom. But when I went up, he was all tucked into bed. She swears she saw a blonde kid walk into that bathroom.
(The left is a real photo of Toyah.)
From the freeway, the city looked dead, but there was a diner. So we pulled over and parked in the overgrown parking lot. The diner was abandoned and closed, and I didn't see a soul for miles around us. My husband just decided to go looking around this old diner, but I had an ill feeling about the place. I looked to my left, and a garage door opened on an old mechanic shop. There was a beat up VW bus in the bay, and a motorcycle outside.
A man emerged from the shadows, greasy for the work he did. He watched us with a calculating gaze, wiping down a wrench the entire time. By the time my husband returned, I was panicked. All I could think of was the damn movie, The Hills Have Eyes.
Every time we drove past that town, I looked down and wondered what happened.
That's all I've got for you today! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for dropping in.
2 comments:
Holy crap! That's a lot of ghost stories! Thanks for sharing them. The one about the child under your daughter's bed is the creepiest. (I'm dying to learn about the one you won't tell anybody. LOL!)
My favorite ghost story is what happened to my husband. One night he dreamt that his grandmother came by his bedside to say goodbye to him. That morning, he learned that she had died during the night.
I believe in ghosts. There are just way too many people, including people who you know would never lie about this stuff, who said they've seen ghosts.
Whoa, scary stuff, Lindsay.
I can relate one ghost story, that happened around my 9th birthday. My grandmother had died the fall before, and my parents and I went to see my grandfather, who still lived on their farm. At the end of our visit, as we were driving down the driveway past the house, I looked over and I swear I saw my grandmother sitting in her favorite rocking chair on the back porch. It didn't scare me at all, because, of course, ghosts don't scare kids like they do adults. And, or course, it was my grandma, too, so I had no reason to be scared of her.
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