This is a story I do not often tell. I promise, sincerely, that this has scarred me for life and although I have looked into psychological explanations for what I heard and natural explanations for what occurred, they remain unsatisfactory.

When I was a child, I was scared of the dark. I swore to my mother I heard voices in it. They were not evil, but they were not familiar and so they scared me. It was not uncommon in the middle of the night for me to wake up and hear “whispers” as I would call them when asking my mom. She figured they were just “bumps in the night” and typical kids nightmare material. I tried often to explain to her that it was more than that, that they sounded different from one another the way people’s voices do.

On some nights I would get so scared from these “whispers” that I would sleep in my mom’s bed with her. It was an added bonus that the bathroom was directly outside of her bedroom door for my late-night tinkles.

I should add at this point that when walking out into the hall to go to the bathroom, you looked directly down the stairs that would lead you into my living room on the first floor (as my mom’s bedroom was on the second floor).

On one such night, around Christmas, I awoke and felt the need to relieve myself. I walked out from the door and distinctly heard the phrase “Look!” and to my astonishment, a red light, almost like a spotlight, was cast upon the wall at the very bottom of the stairs. The light had no other source, it was by itself, and I was transfixed by it.

Being a little kid, and it only being a few days from Christmas, I KNEW what this light was. IT WAS SANTA!!! How else could he get into my house to know I was being a good boy. I was so excited I began walking down the stairs to greet him, picking up my pace after the second step as it began to creep off the wall and fade into the darkness in my living room.

That’s when I heard him. A very strong, masculine voice. Different from the first. Not at all like my father’s (not to say he isn’t masculine, it was just distinctly different). It said “Stop! Right now. Go back up those stairs.”

I listened, turned around, and what happened next I am not sure I would believe if someone had told me this same story. After reaching the top of the stairs, I heard a very loud CRASH that sent me running back to my mother’s bed where I jumped straight under the covers and stayed there the whole night.

When we awoke the next morning, the poinsettia lights (little Christmas flower lights that glowed red) my mother had put on the railing down the stairs were pulled straight down to the bottom of the stairs, some broken from what seemed like a forceful tear, laying in a single pile. The dry sink in my living room had fallen from the wall. My mother could not explain it! My father was worried we had been the victims of a home invasion. My sister was crying.

There was nothing missing, nobody had broken in, there did not seem to be any reason this had happened. And then I saw it, and I kept quiet about it because I was so afraid that I could not force words out of my mouth.

There, on the edge of the wooden dry sink which had been facing up, were three indentations where the finish on the wood had been worn, almost as if in a forceful grip. Something down there had GRABBED IT AND THREW IT DOWN. That was what the bang was.

I was mortified. After that day I never heard a single voice again. I do not like to imagine what was waiting downstairs for me that night, if it was anything at all, but I can tell you that the reality was that something had physically acted upon two things in my house near the bottom of that stairwell.

After this, I had never heard another whisper again. Which is sad, because in some ways I would have liked to thank the man (masculine energy?) that had stopped me from going down those stairs. This happened when I was 7 (or 7 and a half! as I liked to say at the time).

I am 20 years old now, and because of this incident I am still afraid of the dark. ESPECIALLY shadowy stairwells.


21 of the Scariest Ghost Stories Ever Told (1)


So, not sure if scary, but really weird. 2 days after my grandfather died, the neighborhood security guard knocks on our door on a Sunday morning. He told us: ” An old man came to your house earlier, knocked on your door for half an hour, and finally left. When I asked him what he wanted, he told me he needed to say goodbye to someone he had never had the chance to meet”. We were all stunned, had no idea who this old man was, or who was he looking for.

When the guard came in, he shouted: “That’s the old man!!” pointing at a picture of my grandfather. My entire family froze for a minute. I’m not 100% sure if the guard was telling the truth, but I almost like believing that my grandad wanted to say goodbye to my newborn sister, before resting in peace.



My house was built in 1904. It is a single family home, wood frame setting on a concrete block foundation. I have been living here for about 12 years. Of all the weird things that my siblings and me have seen or heard in this house this one event is my favorite. This happened to my brother. About ten years ago my brother and his best friends had started a garage band playing mostly “spanish rock”, alternative music but in spanish. His friends could only get together on Sunday afternoons. They would practice into the early evening, they would usually call it quits by 8 pm, this was the time I usually showed up and went to bed, cause I worked the graveyard shift. This happened in late fall, so the days were getting shorter, they had just finished a long session when the decision to head to someone else house came about. My brother handed his car keys to his buddy so they could load up the equipment, every one had filed out of the basement, the tricky part was that they needed to walk all the way to the back of the basement, up the backstairs, through the kitchen doorway down the hall into the living room and out into the front porch. Everyone was outside sitting in my brothers truck waiting for him. My brother was walking up the backstairs when he remembered that he had left his pancakes in a to go container sitting on a speaker in the basement. He made the decision to go back. Now the basement is not clean, with full sight lines, there had been partitions made, and the boiler and main heating unit are right smack in the middle. So after my brother walks back, he is about to retrieve his food container, when out of the corner of his eye he sees it.

It is a shadowy figure, right at his peripheral vision, this feeling of dread and uneasiness washed over my brother. We had been taught that if you are in the presence of a spirit or ghost and you felt a bad vibe, to say quick prayer or to cuss at it. My brother chose the latter, he basically just told it “hey fuck you, I don’t have time for this shit”.

My brother started to walk to the back of the basement and briskly up the stairs, closing doors and turning off lights as he was walking out, the last light switch is on the opposite side of the front door…luckily the door was open and the light from the street lamp was flooding the living room with its amber light. My brother said he felt something at his back, but at no point did he turn around, as he flicked the last switch the living room went dark, as the rest of the house. As he stepped out he pulled on the door closing it behind him, still holding his food container in one hand he jogged down the few porch steps, he walked towards the front gate…our house resides far from the main street, essentially having a large front yard but no rear garage. As he closed the gap between himself and his friend laden truck he kinda smiled and thought things over in his head, mad at himself for spooking out when there was no reason.

He climbed into the drivers side of the truck, putting on his seat belt and getting ready to pull out of the parking spot directly in front of the house, when one of his friends asked ” Hey wait what about your brother, isn’t he coming with us ?” My brother answered “what do you mean ? He went to work early tonight he is already gone, do you see his car anywhere ?”

The next question they asked “So then who was walking behind you when you were leaving the house ? ”



This is a story my dad told me a few years back. When he was in his 30s, he was housesitting a bed and breakfast for a few friends who were out of town. My dad and his girlfriend at the time weren’t staying at the bed and breakfast, but would spend a few hours every evening to make sure it at least looked occupied. A few nights in as they’re about to leave they hear a massive banging sound and a blood-curdling scream. They look at each other and without any words ran out of the house, locked it, and drove home.

The next morning they went to check out the house. The hallway upstairs had 3 bedrooms on either side, and one larger bedroom at the end of the hall. When they went upstairs, all the doors were closed. They tried each handle on the doors on the side of the hallway, and every single one was locked from the inside. When they got to the final door, it was unlocked. They go inside to see the room completely trashed and furniture scattered everywhere.

The worst part, however, was the walls. The walls had claw marks running down them as if someone was trying to scratch the wallpaper off. Needless to say, they locked up the house and didn’t return until the owners came back. Later on, they did some investigating and discovered that there had been a murder there a very long time ago. A doctor had come home to find his wife cheating on him with another man, and he had stabbed the doctor, shoved the wife against the wall, and stabbed her too. Apparently the claw marks had come from her nails scratching down the walls.

It was my dad telling the story, so I don’t know how much of it is actually true, but he seemed almost frightened when he told this to me, as if even just the memory chilled him to the bone…



During hurricane Gustav (in 08, I think), I evacuated to a church in Baton Rouge with a friend and his family.

At the same time, there was an entire nursing home’s worth of old people staying in the church. My friend, his family, and myself all shared one room together.

In this church, there was one bathroom that was large, similar to something that would be in an elementary school (a few stalls, a trough urinal, etc.).

One night during the storm, my friend and I made a trip to the bathroom. The lights had since gone out (middle of a hurricane and all). The church had a musty, eerie feel to it. Kind of like when you turn out the ac in a house for a few days. The area surrounding the church was also dead quiet, since there was no electricity in the area.

The bathroom was several halls over from our room. So, we grabbed our flashlights and set out. While walking down one long hall, we shined our flashlights ahead, and there, at the end of the hall, sat an old man in a wheelchair (in the middle of the night with no one around).

Now, this hall was incredibly long. So we could make him out, but we couldn’t really see all his facial features, etc. Once we grasped what we saw, we turned and looked at each other, semi-freaked out. Then, we shined our flashlights back to where he was, and there was nothing there. It was as if he vanished.

No signs, no sound….nothing. Needless to say, we hauled ass back to the room.



The following is shamelessly stolen from a friend’s experience shared on a Halloween ghost hunt, because we weren’t having any luck ourselves.

His Story

This friend and a few of his college buddies were going on a similar ghost hunt themselves, and had heard about some graveyard where children murdered by their mother had been buried. The graveyard was located off the main road, so my friend parked his car on the side of the road, and the group (5-7 people I believe) got out and followed the small path through the woods for a couple minutes to get to the graveyard.

Once there, nothing exciting happened for the first 10 minutes or so, and they had tried everything the website or wherever they heard the story told them to do, with nothing resulting. They got bored, and being typical, inebriated college kids, started taunting the supposed ghost of the mother. This continued for a few minutes before they tired, and decided to go back to the car as one of the girls had to go to the bathroom.

Once they got back to the car, my friend, the sober driver, tried opening the handle without unlocking the car because he hadn’t locked it in the first place, but found it locked. He attributed this to bad memory at the time. The group drove home, laughing and talking like normal. After he had dropped all the others off at their homes, he went back to his own house. He got in at the same time as one of his roommates, who stopped and waited for him to pull in. The roommate had his phone out, and shined the light in the window when his friend pulled in as a joke. What he saw was tiny, baby sized handprints all over the windows. As soon as my friend got out, he went into the house without saying a word to the roommate. The roommate, confused, went back to the car and tried to rub one of the handprints. They were on the inside of the window.

To this day, my friend will not speak of his drive home after he dropped off his other friends, and has since sold the car without ever driving it again.

My own story

This one is from my own experience. I was driving home with a friend from a tournament we had gone to about 2-3 hours away. The whole weekend, it had been raining and storming very hard, and a lot of roads were flooded (this was Indiana, so a bunch of side roads and bridges were just gone). We had to reroute around 231, since a huge section of it was underwater from where a river had flooded. We ended up going through a few side towns and back roads that were a lot higher elevation away from other bodies of water. We were driving through one small town, and I was navigating with the GPS in the car. I would glance at it every once in a while, but I was also paying attention to what was going on outside the car, as it was raining pretty heavily still. The GPS directed us on a road that connected up with a more main one, and we were driving on it just fine, when suddenly, my buddy slams on the breaks.

We’re in the middle of a graveyard, and the road just ends. I look down at the GPS, and then show my buddy that the road continues straight on and straight back the way we came according to the GPS screen. He shrugs, turns around, and then we start back the way we came. Now, we had been telling ghost stories, and I was not at all sleepy or tired. We had driven on the one road the last 15 miles or so, directly through the town, and on into the countryside before we encountered the graveyard. On the way back, we made 5-6 turns within this graveyard through which we had just come on a straight road, that also suddenly spanned back a mile or so, before finally getting back onto the straight road we thought we were on before.

I looked at the GPS again, and it was rerouting. When it finished, the route it wanted us to take was “Make a U-Turn, and continue on County Road 200 N for 10 miles.” We both turned around in our seats, to confirm that we had indeed just driven through a huge graveyard, with many turns and twists in the road leading back into it. Instead, we saw the road dead-ended into a small graveyard.

We immediately drove back to the town the opposite direction of the graveyard and took a different route home.



Okay. This happened to me when I was a junior in high school. It was December and it had just started snowing, that evening. My best friend and I were in debate and getting ready for our state qualifiers, that were the next day. We were writing our cases and as usual, at each other’s throats over the details of the cases. It was a stressful, tense evening. We finally finished our cases at about 3am. Then, we went to my room for the night.

Almost as soon as we get into my room, we hear what sounds like the water turning on in the other end of the house. No big deal, probably my parents, I think. Then, we hear the front door open. I told her, “I bet mom woke up and wanted some fresh air.” It made sense. I really thought that’s what it was. Until we heard incredibly heavy footsteps in my living room, headed for my room. They were NOT anyone in my family’s footsteps. Then they stopped. My friend and I looked at each other and were both freaked out, just standing, frozen in my room. We walked closer to each other and the footsteps started again, but this time they were running toward us.

We both flipped. We grabbed each others hands, out of fear, and my bedroom door flew open. We both looked at the door. Nobody was there. We ran to the bathroom that’s connected to my room. I closed/ locked the door and stood against it. When we finally got the balls to do it, we sprinted to my parents’ room, crying and hysterical. We obviously startled my parents awake. They said neither of them had gotten up. My dad grabbed his gun and looked outside. No tracks in the snow, anywhere around our house.



I heard this when I was in Korea. One day a girl was walking home late night after work or something. It was dark and around midnight. She lived an apartment where they had elevator. She got in the elevator and when the door was about to close, a strange man with very red hoodie entered the elevator. He apologized for scaring her and asked which floor she is heading to, without making an eye contact. She told him out of fear and the man casually press the button and the one below.

As they were on the way, he asked her for her cell phone if he could use it but she declined out of suspicious and isolated herself in the corner. After seconds of silence, elevator arrived to the floor below the one girl was heading to and the door opened. The guy slowly walked out of the door and turned around facing toward the elevator and the girl, and just stared at her without any movement.

Slowly the door started to close and from the gap, she could see him turning around heading for up-stairs… pulling a knife out of his packet.



There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After a what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night.

He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.



“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23.

“Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?”

“No, Daddy.”

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room.

“Why not sweetie?”

“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.” For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can’t take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.



The story itself is a few months old now, but I copied and pasted the text, so it is still written as if it just happened several days ago, My grandmother is in a nursing home after suffering a stroke a few months ago. Mentally, she is all there. However, her one side is partially paralyzed, and she is in rehab in the nursing home. She’s been weakened by the relative lack of activity, though.

On Sunday, as we were getting ready to go visit her first thing in the morning as we always do, we got a call from the family of her old best friend. The friend had moved to Florida about ten years ago, and they had gradually lost touch save for a Christmas card every now and then. Well, the friend had just died very early that morning, and they were calling to inform us of her death.

When we got to the nursing home we signed in and noticed we were the first visitors of the day. We went to my grandmother’s room and said hi. We also have a little visitor’s book for people to sign in her room so we know who has visited her. Nobody had signed it since Saturday morning. As we walked into her room, she exclaimed, “Oh my, so many visitors this morning!” We asked what she meant. She replied that she had gotten a visit from an old dear friend that morning; it was the friend from Florida who had just passed away. She had told my grandmother that she was going away for a while, not to worry, that she would be watching out for her, and that they would see each other again. My grandmother also remarked at how healthy she looked.

I’ve never had chills run down my spine like that before. Later I asked if anyone had been to my g’mother’s room that morning, and the staff said no. We asked if any phone calls had come through for her that morning, and they again said no (they also log phone calls for residents and when they checked the logs there was nothing that they had forgotten). I also this morning called the family of the friend in Florida to offer my condolences and ask if they had called anyone else around here (I asked under the guise that I would help notify people around here so I didn’t want to double call people). They said we were the only ones they had called from around here and the only reason they called us is because they thought my grandmother still lived with us.

They had no idea until I told them this morning that she is in a nursing home.

I know it’s in the realm of reality that she could have simply dreamed it, but the chances of her having a dream like that with that sort of message on the very morning that her friend died are so remote that it still gives me chills.




Dave Eggers:

When I was a kid in the suburbs of Chicago, adventure meant Quetico Provincial Park, up on the border of Minnesota and Canada. The name implies that the place was small, but Quetico is a million acre nature preserve, so big you could go days and days without seeing another soul.

We would go on camping trips up there, weeks of canoeing and portaging, seeing bears and moose and deer, sleeping under star-soaked skies. The park was isolated and so pristine that you could actually drink the water straight from the lakes. But I won’t be going back to Quetico anytime soon. Not after what happened to a girl name Francis Brandywine.

Francis was 17 at the time, black haired and with a reckless nature, determined always to leave the well-trod path, to break new ground and be alone. A few years ago, Francis was up in Quetico with her family. They were in a remote part of the park, camped on the shore of one of the deeper lakes, a lonely body of water carved millions of years ago by a passing glacier. The deep part of this particular lake was rumored to be about 300 feet.

One night, after her family went to bed, Francis took the row boat out, planning to find a quiet spot in the middle of the lake, lay on the bench of the boat, look up at the sky, and maybe write in her journal.

So she left the shore, rowed for about 20 minutes, and when she felt satisfied that she was over the lake’s deepest spot, she lay down on the bench and looked up at the night sky. The stars were very bright, and the aurora borealis was shimmering like a neon lasso. She was feeling very peaceful.

Then she heard something strange. It was like a knock. Clop, clop. She sat up, guessing that the boat had drifted to shore and run aground. But she looked around the boat, and she was still a half mile from shore. She leaned over the side to see if she’d hit anything, but she saw nothing– no log, no rocks. She lay back down.

She told herself it could be any number of things, a fish, a turtle, a stick that had drifted under the boat. She relaxed again and soon fell into a contented reverie. She had just closed her eyes when she heard another knock. This time it was louder, a crisp plop, plop, plop, like the sound of someone knocking hard on a wooden door, except this knocking was coming from the bottom of the boat.

Now she was scared. She leaned over the side again. It had to be an animal. But what kind of animal would knock like that, three quick, loud knocks in rapid succession? Her mouth went dry. She held onto each side of the boat, and now she could only wait to see if it happened again. The silence stretched out. A few minutes passed, and just as she began to think she’d imagined it all, the knocks came again, but this time louder. Bam, bam, bam.

She had to leave. She lunged for the oars. She got them in place and began rowing. The water was very calm, so she should’ve made quick progress. But after rowing feverishly, she looked around, and she realized that she wasn’t moving at all. Something was keeping her exactly where she was.

Again she tried rowing, she rowed and rowed on the verge of tears, but she went nowhere. She stopped. She was exhausted. Her heavy breathing filled the air. She cried. She sobbed. But soon she calmed herself again, and the boat was silent again, for 10 minutes, then 20.

Again, she tricked herself into thinking she’d imagined it all. But just like before, just when she was beginning to get a grip on herself, the knocking came again, this time as loud as a bass drum. Boom, boom, boom. The floorboards of the boat shook with each knock. Now she was so shaken she started making questionable decisions. The first was to lower one of the oars into the black water, trying to feel if there was some land mass, even some creature she could touch. As soon as the oar broke the water’s surface, though, she felt a strong, silent tug at the other end, and the oar was pulled under.

She screamed, she jumped back, and now she had no options. All she could do was sit, and hope, and wait– wait for the morning to come, wait for whatever was going to happen to happen. The knocking went on through the night. She passed the time writing in her notebook, and it’s only because of this notebook that we know what happened that night. Frances can’t tell us. She was never seen again.

The boat was found on shore the next day, empty but for the journal. On those pages were her frantic jottings, all written in her distinctive handwriting, all but the last page. When the journal was found, that page was still wet, and on it were four words, looking as if they’d been written quickly, with a muddy finger. They said, “I did knock first.”



My brother once lived in a flat in downtown Mt. Clemens, MI. The Clem was known to be a hot spot for “baths” back in the depression era and was booming with activity. Nowadays it has some run-down parts, this is where my brother rented his flat. It was a giant old raggedy house which was now separated into multiple odd apartments. Anyways, long story short, he always admitted to odd experiences, cupboard doors opening up, things missing, but one peculiar oddity was that he was always missing boxers/underwear from his drawer. He admitted that he thought his house was haunted and that the ghost had a crush on him. Never anything violent or disturbing, just odd things.

Later on he starts dating his future ex-wife. She starts coming around and he notices that the oddities begin to increase. New oddities began to occur, his girlfriend would always find her shoes (which were left on a mat inside the apartment) outside the door on the patio in the morning. She’d always comment to my brother to stop putting her shoes outside, he had an idea of why but didn’t want to frighten her… besides, it wasn’t hurting anyone right? Well, things started getting worse, he comes home from work and his girlfriend was staying there while he was gone, claims that the stove burner kept lighting itself, she’d walk into the kitchen and it would be lit, she’d turn it off and shortly later it’d be lit again. Then, one night my brother wakes up in the middle of the night and sees his girlfriend sitting at the end of the bed, not just sees but feels her near his feet, staring at him. He calls out for her to come back to bed, she doesn’t respond so he calls out louder telling her to come to bed and asking what’s wrong? His girlfriend then asks what he’s doing, he turns and shes sleeping next to him, he turns back, no one is at the end of the bed. Now, he’s freaked out but doesn’t want to scare his girlfriend from coming over his place.

A few nights later, they’re both sleeping and he wakes up to his girlfriend screaming. He looks over and she’s sleeping but thrashing around holding onto her neck. He doesn’t see anything so he starts yelling and shaking her to wake her up, after a few shakes she wakes up crying and terrified. She starts telling my brother about how real her dream felt that a woman was strangling her telling her to get out, that she doesn’t belong there and to leave her man alone. Her neck had red marks on it, possibly from herself trying to “defend herself” but they believed it to be from something else. My brother then comes clean with her, the decide to do some research and find out that the address that they live in was an old brothel back in the day that the rich bathers used to stay in. My brother lived in that house for a few more weeks before he could locate a new place, she never came back to stay the night though, and he never experienced anything aggressive while there. Still, kinda fucked up though. I know my brother and I can tell when he’s lying, this shit was legit and when she talked about it, you could see how shaken up she was.



My best friend died of cancer back in 2002 – we were incredibly close in every way and we spent the majority of our free time together. almost a year after she died i was in my apartment sleeping and my phone rang around 3 am – i had one of those sony ericsson t610. I was very groggy and picked up the phone from my nightstand and looked at it – I saw it was my friends number.

I immediately became alert and awake and answered the phone very curious.. I said hello a few time but all i could hear was very loud static for about 30 seconds. eventually the call ended. At this point i was freaking out and called the number back only to get an automated recording that this number was out of service. I then called her mother’s house to see if possibly her older sister may have had my friends old phone and might have called me by accident, but there was no answer at my friends mothers home.. come to find out the remaining family was away in miami.

After they came home a few days later i took the phone to them and showed them the call log and they were in disbelief. They went to my friends room and got the phone out of the drawer where it had been sitting for months .. battery stone cold dead.



A man goes to a bed and breakfast. While checking in, the owner tells him that the room next to his is undergoing some repairs, so don’t open the door or anything. The man goes to his room, drops off his things, but then is bored. He pokes around the house a little, and with nothing else to do, decides to see the room that needs repairing. He tries the door and it’s locked. He wonders why the owner would even bother warning him about this room since it’s locked anyway. Whatever. He peeks through the keyhole, and the room beyond isn’t actually being repaired. It’s completely empty, except for a figure in the far side if the room sitting in a chair facing the wall. The man stands up again, creeped out. Just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, he bends down and looks through the keyhole again. This time he doesn’t see the figure, or the room at all, just the color red, like someone was blocking the keyhole with construction paper.

Weirded out, the man goes to bed. When he’s at breakfast with the owner the next morning, the man asks him casually about the repairs in the next room. The owner sighs and says, “Truthfully? I don’t rent out that room because so many people have told me it’s haunted by a ghost with red eyes.”



This story is about a guy who was a friend of my dad’s, we’ll call him Keith. Definitely not his real name, this was in Taiwan. This guy is at a camp in a rural area with some of his friends, but the camp is just outside of a small town, so they could head in for food or supplies whenever they wanted. Anyways, he goes to lunch by himself at the town, and then runs into an old friend, Don, who invites him for a meal. Everything starts out great, and he’s really happy to see this guy, but a growing feeling of discomfort begins to gnaw at him. Eventually, halfway through the meal he gets the worst feeling he’s ever had, and realizes what the fuck is wrong: Don is dead. This dude has been dead since they were in middle school (or whatever the Taiwanese equivalent of that is). He tries his best to keep his cool, but is basically just looking for an excuse to leave now. Don offers to pay for the meal, and pulls out some weird money that Keith’s never seen before. Keith hastily says thanks and tries to leave, but Don says “No, wait, we haven’t seen each other in so long. How about we head down to the river and do some fishing?” Well, after realizing this dude might be a ghost and seeing some weird money, no way in hell was he going to agree to that, so he declines. Don gets more and more agitated, and finally Keith just starts hastily jog/running away. Without sounding very angry, Don says “Alright, I guess you got one on me, but you owe me now.”

Keith is now frantically power walking around this town, not recognizing anything, when he suddenly rounds a turn onto a street that he knows. He continues on, leaves the town and goes back to his friends. He’s not too familiar with the area, but he sure as hell remembers the restaurant that he went to for lunch, so he relays what just happened to the friends at camp, and asks them about the restaurant. Neither it, nor the street it was supposedly on, exist.

So, did Keith just have a crazy dream, or did he take a wrong turn and have lunch in the afterlife? No fucking clue, but three months later, tragedy befell Keith’s younger brother. His brother was out with his own friends having fun, when suddenly, according to the friends, he starts acting really weird. Walks out into the water even though he can’t swim. Suddenly, in waist deep water, he just disappears under the surface. They all run to where he is, but when they tried to pull him out of the water he seemed stuck. It was only after he was dead that they were able to pull him out. This river where Keith’s younger brother drowned was where Don wanted to go fishing.



When I was in high school, my family had to move from central Texas back to West Texas for my dad’s job. We were under a lot of stress and other family issues at the time as well, but that is besides the point. My sister and my mom were painting the upstairs walls as we got the house to get ready. My mom was on the wall to the far right, there was a blank wall in the middle, and my sister was on the far left. I was downstairs packing up things into boxes.

Anyway, suddenly, my sister comes downstairs (she is older than me) looking scared out of her mind. She asks me to come upstairs. On the wall in between them, for no apparent reason, this “writing” appeared. Looking closely enough, you can see it was not written by accident, but rather by broad strokes made by a human hand. Problem is, the handprint is too big for any of us three to make it. The longer we stayed in the room, the more freaked out we got as we realized that nobody was playing a prank on anyone else. I still have no explanation to this day of what it means. tl;dr ghost writing appears on wall in paint.

Here is the photo



I have a really good one that is actually true; it happened to me. This could have been a dream, but I testify to this day that what I saw was a ghost. So here I am, a young buy who awoke in the middle of the night. I am currently sharing a bunk bed with my brother, and I am on the top bunk. I look out into my living room and notice everything is dark, however there is a person in an evening gown dusting my fireplace mantle.

The woman was slender, which threw me off guard because my mom is obese. I yelled out “mom?” To the person dusting the counter, and the person turned around. It was not my mom, but some older woman. Suddenly, she shrieks and her face becomes severely deformed. It was like that shit you see in horror movies, like ridiculously scary especially for a young kid I blink my eyes and she was gone. I somehow went back to bed, and the next morning I went to my living room and noticed that even though the tv was off, there was something “written” on the screen.

It said: “Do not be afraid”. The text slowly faded, and no one else saw it. As a young boy, this was, and still is, extremely terrifying to me.



My buddy told me this one: he was a fairly new real estate agent showing a newlywed couple some houses & despite weeks of his best efforts, nothing suited the new brides fancy. Getting frustrated he took them on one last run to look at one last house as the couple had decided to put the house hunt on hold for awhile if it didn’t pan out. Well it didn’t. But as they were driving home, just down some random street, the new bride practically screamed STOP!

He slammed on the brakes thinking he was about to crush a kid or something & he said the woman just kept staring at a house on her left saying ‘that’s it! that’s the one! That is OUR house!’ There was no for sale sign however & not listed on mls, but my buddy promised he’d look into it. Well as it turned out the house had been on the market for quite some time, way longer than normal, with just one previous owner – an elderly woman who had just taken it off the market because she was convinced it wouldn’t sell.

Well he set up a viewing for the newlywed couple & the new bride breezed through the place like she already lived in it. She knew all the rooms, the cupboards, storage, everything like she’d been there before. All three agreed this was definitely the place for them, it was magical. Papers were signed & it was a done deal. On the possession date the little old lady asked that she be there to hand the keys over as the house was her pride & joy…not a problem. But as the new couple walked up to get the keys, the old woman’s face went deathly white. She didn’t speak & couldn’t get away from them fast enough. The couple didn’t seem to notice, took the keys & happily went about their business in their new home. My buddy caught up to the old woman & asked what happened back there?

He said she was so sickly white she was practically transparent, she could barely breathe when she said ‘that woman…has been haunting this house for the last year. There’s no mistaking it’s her.’



First off, I live in a century home, meaning my house is at least 100 years old if not more. Being as old as it is, it’s seen its fair share of deaths over the years. Needless to say a house as old as mine can have some pretty creepy vibes from time to time and every now and then I might get a chill or the sensation that someone was watching me. One night, after everyone else in my family had gone to bed (I was always the last to go to sleep) I was sitting downstairs just watching TV when I started feeling a little uneasy.

It felt like someone was in the room with me even though my entire family was upstairs sleeping. I decided to shrug it off and went upstairs to get some sleep. I laid down in my bed just trying to nod off when suddenly I got that same feeling again, only this time I was SURE I wasn’t alone. Now, since my house is so old, you can hear whenever someone is walking around because of the creaky floorboards. Right after I got that weird sensation again, the floorboard right next to my bed began to creak. It didn’t just stop there though. The creaking moved from the edge of my bed, across the room, and to my bedroom door.

As soon as it reached the door, someone began pounding on it from the other side. I mean REALLY pounding. Obviously by now I was shitting my pants with fear, but my curiosity got the better of me and I leapt out of bed and flung the door open. There was no one on the other side. I checked to see if everyone was still in their rooms thinking maybe someone was pulling a prank on me but they were all fast asleep. I was getting really freaked out by this point but decided there wasn’t much else I could do so I went back to sleep.

Around 15 minutes later I was woken up by something shaking me awake. To my horror the entire bed was violently shaking and EVERY light in my room was on. I had actually woken up because my headboard had whacked me in the head because it was shaking so much. As soon as I was able to gather what was going on, it all suddenly stopped, and I was left sitting in my quiet room with all the lights on. Needless to say I had a lot of trouble getting back to sleep that night.



My dad JUST told me about a ghost that frequented our house when I was young. We bought our house from an estate sale because the woman who had owned it since 1943 had lived in it until she passed away in my parent’s bedroom. He said multiple times he felt a presence, but one night, he was awakened to see a woman that he describes looking a little like Barbara Bush – stately, put together, and a little snobby. She was wearing a distinguished looking striped jacket. Her eyes met my dad’s and she gave him a look that he says was fiercely disapproving. She then passed across the bed, brushing her coat along my stepmom, and dissipated.

The next morning, my stepmom said she knew something terrifying was there but she kept her eyes shut tight because she did not want to see what it was, until she calmed down and went back to sleep.

The scariest part of all of this, is that where my dad watched her brush my stepmom, was a red rash covering the entire area.

Needless to say, I was thankful my dad saved that one until I was in my twenties and moved out of the house. Although he did say that her visits stopped after we remodeled the house.


Source: What is the scariest ghost story you ever heard? – /r/AskReddit/