Mind playing tricks
It’s funny. Having read a few of the stories on here, I’m quite surprised by the amount of people who’ll go to quite extraordinary lengths to explain away ghost stories and the like by coming up with sometimes quite ridiculous explanations that while they may fit into their rather limited grasp of science, don’t actually explain the phenomenon. I’m not talking about sleep apnoea, or an over-active imagination reacting to creaking windows or whatever. I’m talking about the kind of person who’ll say that flickering lights or skipping CDs are the fault of the now-deceased not having time to fix them. Or that regular footsteps upstairs are the result of cats knocking over boxes.

Those of us who’ve had a genuine experience have already tried to find a rational explanation for it. Really, we have. Not everyone who’s had a supernatural experience is a histrionic hippie half off their nuts on ganja and crystal worship. Some of us are actually quite rational, intelligent people. Part of what makes these things so scary or uncomfortable is that you can’t explain it away. On some level you just know that something’s really wrong. It’s really difficult to explain to people who haven’t had an experience. Until you actually have one, it’s difficult to accept something so far out of the ordinary.

Yes, sometimes your mind does play tricks on you. For example, I had a dream last night, coincidentally involving a B3tan, I won’t say who as it is irrelevant. She was making a poster. When she finished, I was abruptly woken up by a loud noise that sounded like a cassette tape being rewound. It was loud enough that I woke and said “what the fuck was *that*?!” I lay there, half awake for maybe ten minutes at two am and then heard weird noises from outside on the street. I couldn’t really explain it, as I live on my own and certainly don’t have any tape decks in the house. What probably happened was that my mind was over-analysing stuff because I was a bit freaked out at being awoken by a noise in my dream. Perfectly rational explanation to a fairly weird experience.

When you have a genuinely strange experience though, you’re usually wide awake and alert. At least, I was. I am a little bit offended by the attitude of certain people that because they don’t believe in ghosts, never having seen or heard one, they don’t exist and that everybody who has is either mental, paranoid, stupid or a mixture of all three. I’m not suggesting that people go around all agog and taking the word of every paranormal Derek Acorah style charlatan that pops his head up and shouts “boo”, but let’s have a little bit of open-mindedness. I’d much prefer to have a nice, cosy, scientific explanation for the stuff I’ve seen, as would everybody else who’s seen something similar. Let’s try not to insult everybody’s intelligence, eh?

/rant
( Kroney, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 11:41, 8 replies)

Why you shouldn't mess with Ouija Boards
Way back when I was a teenage ScousersPet, I was somewhat desperate to get into the pants of a cute gothy chick called Naomi. Woo had been pitched for some time, with no success. During our long, deep and meaningful (yeah right, we mostly talked about Iron Maiden) conversations it had emerged that she was into the occult and I had claimed to be as well, in a pathetic attempt at seeming cool.

One day, she suggested that we should try to "contact the other side" using a Ouija board. Thing is, she said we need four people for it to work. She could bring her mate so I needed to find a willing fourth. At that point, my best mate wa sa lad called Ben, he was from a strict Evangelical familly from a very supersticious part of Nigeria, so he took some persuading to come along, but I told him Naomi's mate was fit and that seemed to change his mind. It was on.

The "seance" was due to take place in my bedroom, so I prepared a suitable atmosphere by puttinf red crepe paper (i think that's what it's called) over the lightshade, to bathe the room in an eerie, Satanic glow. Top.

All parties arrived, the board was produced, blessed (!?) and spirits were invoked. We quickly established contact with the ghost of a woman who had lived in the house 100 years previously. Despite m6y skepticism, there didn't seem to be any pressure being applied to the planchette (the pointer thingy), yet very clear answers were being given to our inane questions. Things were getting a touch spooky.

Then things started taking a turn for the freaky. The answers started getting a bit angry and, unprompted, the spirit asked to be allowed to leave, which we refused, wanting more answers. The room chilled and it seemed that the birds outside the window had stopped singing.

Suddenly, there was a flash and flames started falling on the board, as if from nowhere.

I shit out and bolted for the door, which opened inwards. As I went to open it, all 6'4", 15-stone of muscle, part time bouncr of Ben barreled into me, screaming like a banshee. He pinned me between himself and the door and I heard a nasty splintering sound. I thought it was the door at first, but the massive pain in my wrist revealed that it was actually my wrist that had splintered. It my turn to scream.

Behind us, we heard a nearly hysterical laughter. We both turned and saw the girls pissing themselves and pointing upwards. We looked towards the ceiling, terrified as to what we might see. Remember that red crepe paper? Well it turns out that you shouldn't tape it next to a 100w bulb, as it tends to catch fire and fall on anyone underneath it.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why you shouldn't mess with the occult...
(ScousersPet, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 11:36, Reply)

Cryptozoology
I have no truck with the supernatural, for magic see James Randi, for the power of the human mind, see Derren Brown and for God, see Dawkins.

However, I have seen with my own eyes a big cat on the prowl in England.
Here
maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&q=tilmanstone&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&resnum=1&ct=title

about 10 years ago.

No doubt about it in my mind, the size and shape and colour of a black panther and close enough not to mistake a domestic dog.
About the same time, and completly unknown to me there were about 15 other sightings in the area over 3 months or so.

So there you have it. No cock jokes, no eerie music, just a poor scared animal probably thrown out by some rich cunt who got bored and/or afraid of his unusual pet.
(Pickettywitchfinder General, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 11:32, Reply)

The Day the Sky Went Green and Purple
It was spring 1996 and I was in Hull. It was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to set as I walked across the field. There was some light cloud in the sky, but plenty of sunlight was breaking through.

Did I mention that the sky was all seven colours? If I say that there was red and orange and a bit of blue, that would be unsurprising in the context of a spring evening. But - and apparently it had something to do with ice crystals in the upper atmosphere refracting the light in a certain way - the whole of the sky looked like a glowing version of the oil on top of puddles. The effect was muted to the naked eye, but, looked at through polarised sunspecs, it was much more pronounced... and stunning.

Following morning, it was on the front page of the Yorkshire Post; apparently the phenomenon had been visible all along the East coast, as far south as Cambridge.

Anyone else see that?



(Actually, if you look at the Manchester Hilton through polarised lenses in the right light, it looks pink.)
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 11:17, 8 replies)

Spunky Monk
Alright then, i actually haven't had any close encounters of the brown kind myself, but this story coming up is the best i've heard, and it happened to agood, honest, trustworthy guy i know well, so basically i believe what he was saying...

The background being that he had just gotten over a bout of heavy food poisoning which resulted in fevers and mild hallucinations...a few days after recovering he decided to come back up to Scotland to stay with his sister and recuperate....no sickness, squirts or sweatiness for a number of days, so he is on the road to recovery...

He decided to go for a wander and have a wee smoke as his sister does not partake...he gets to a nice spot by the Gryffe river near Kilmacolm, sits himself down and skins up...he has his reefer and is relaxing in the summer sun. The spot is by a river in a small bowl shaped depression, he is sat at or near the bottom, by the river...he looks over his shoulder and sees a monk, yep, full robe, hood up, the lot, standing halfway up the bowl shaped depression, it is semi transparent and does not move, he looks away, looks back and it is still there. After repeating this a few times the apparition disappears.......

He is pretty freaked out, but manages to go over to where it had appeared and look for any clues. There are none. He quickly walks home. The thing is that clouds his judgement is the fact he thought it could have been a vague hallucination brought on by the smoke and retreating food poisoning....He puts the matter to the back of his mind.


Ffwd 10 years or so and he is back working in Scotland, he is giving a lift to a few female workmates and on this morning they start talking about spooky things, well, they do. He is listening with interest when they start talking about 'the monk of duchal woods'. he hasn't mentioned anything of his own experience to them and the topic is totally unprompted. They then relay the story of the monk who haunts the river and woods at Duchal, the site of an old castle that was destroyed by the infamous Mons Meg canon, with a lone monk still inside. He was very interested to hear the background to the apparition he still wasn't sure if he saw or not...

So, he saw this monk with no prior knowledge of its existence but it deffo is a known phenomenon...

www.paranormaldatabase.com/highlands/Invedata.php

I have been to the exact spot many times before i even knew this friend, and didn't like it at all, and refused to camp there with my pals. And have been since and nothing happened, bastard ghosts.

meh!
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 11:05, 2 replies)

Whap
Now, I work in local government so am especially cynical and sceptical of anything that doesn't have a governmental BVPI target attached. I heard a tale just recently that has spooked me considerably, and made me re-assess my life, career and everything.

My colleague was recounting his story about how he works as a neighbourhood warden, one of those luck-less few who have a responsibility to address incidents of anti-social behaviour whilst having no powers to support them.

He was out, late one evening, close to where an old air-raid-shelter cum gun emplacement lay next to one of the beaches...

Now the story got to how, in the years intervening since the second world war, there had been tales of the supernatural that passed from generation of schoolboy to generation of schoolboy involving the screams of torment, cold-spots and shadowy figures haunting this particular remnant of the past - and - as a schoolboy himself, once upon a time, he was fully conversant with the whole ghostly history.

So, imagine if you will, his pure terror as he heard a distinct moan emanating from the shelter one cold and misty evening. OooooOOOOoooHHH OOooOOOOOhhhhh OOOOOOOoooOOoooh but, burdened with the onset of adulthood and his neighbourhood warden remit to boot, he felt compelled to investigate.

So he crept towards the shelter, one foot in front of the other, hoping beyond hope he didn't step on a twig or, more pertinently come face to face with a vile spectre, until, faced with the broken and rusty door, he poked his head around...

To be confronted by an old bloke, keks round his ankles, cracking one off his wrinkly old Hampton into a jar.

Sweet.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 10:30, Reply)

Not so much unexplained...
Now I know this doesn't fit the requirements of the question entirely, but at the time it was happening, I was convinced it was some kind of supernatural or otherworldly occurance, so it's partially relevant.

~~~Wavy flashback with harp sound~~~

Back when I was about 9-10 years old, I had just moved to Cyprus with my parents and sister a year previously. My dad worked in Saudi Arabia for BAE so it was convenient for him to come visiting, my mum loved the sun and way of life here, and she didn't want us getting drugged up or knifed in the UK schools, so it worked out for us too.

Anyway, one time when my dad came visiting, we decided to hire a car and have a drive over to the west side of the island (we lived in Ayia Napa at the time), and check out Limassol, the roman ruins, Paphos, the castle, etc. etc. Fun day out.

Anyway, time passes, the day's over, we head back. This would be a summertime evening, about 7ish as we drive home. That's when we saw it.

On the final stretch of motorway, heading directly East, we notice this huge deep orange ball on the dusky horizon. I mean MASSIVE. Easily at least 4-5 times as large as the sun appears in the sky. And the sky around it was this kind of forboding bloody red.
At this point, my juvenile mind is racing with possibilities of alien invaders and UFOs landing on little beach towns on tiny islands. I was expecting to see laser blasts going through the sky as we got closer. What made it even worse was the fact that there seemed to be a very disproportionate number of cars moving in the opposite direction, AWAY from the large dome of doom we were headed towards.

For a few strangely elongated minutes (isn't it odd how time seems to extend when you really don't want it to?), I was excreting masonry and hoping our new overlords would be nice to me, until eventually we arrived home without passing by any visible signs of death or destruction.

It got dark and the Moon rose higher into the sky, its colour faded a little. I still think it looked larger that night than it ever has done before or since though.

Turns out that it's an optical illusion caused by the Moon's closeness to more relatable sized objects on or around the horizon which just makes it seem larger. I guess that combined with the sunset sky just magnified the effect that little bit more to make it super-scary to childrens.

Not so scary as an adult I guess though. Or particularly unexplained what with that last paragraph. Oh well, I did warn you!
(LLamaBoy skived off work on, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 10:24, Reply)

Floating away!
I have started to have a number of out of body experiences over the past five weeks.

It seems to happen every night after I've got everything ready for tomorrow mornings manic get myself ready for work and the kids for school rush. I sit down for a cuppa with the missuis, she switches the TV on and turns over to Channel 4, ready to watch the highlights of the last 24 hours in the Big Brother House.

At this point I can feel my soul escaping my body screaming sod this inane drivel I'm off.

Lucky bugger (My soul that is)
(mon bison powered by magnets, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 10:23, Reply)

Masonic secrets
This one was related to me by a close friend about a punk band from my hometown. They were touring across Canada, and one of their shows was in a Masonic temple. They had a bit of time to explore, so they wandered into the basement, where they found a human skeleton. The skeleton was wearing some kind of robe and holding a big sword.

After that, they suffered a string of extremely bad luck. Their van was broken into, their instruments were stolen, some members became extremely sick, etc.

I don't believe in curses at all, but I wonder if there's a skeleton hiding in the basement of every Masonic lodge.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 10:15, 9 replies)

No Smoking
After leaving Falkirk (for details see the originally titled earlier posting "Falkirk") we proceeded up to loch lomond to the wedding. When we first arrived at the loch my partner made a comment that she felt like we were cursed. I probably should have of listened to her then.

3 packets of cigarettes mysteriously disappeared from or rental car. 1 packet well ok they were just forgotten somewhere but not 3. I am the sort of person who makes a point of putting things away safley. Both of us swore that the cigarettes were put back in the car .That was not the wierdist thing .

After the wedding we stayed up for an extra couple of days. On the last day there i went from our hotel out to the car to get something . Sitting in the center consoul was a packet of matches . I went back inside, the car keys never left my pocket. About half an hour later we checked out and left.

The hotel was up a long drive through a wooded area. About halfway down the drive we got a really strong smell of what can best be described as white spirits. It only lasted for a few seconds but was really intense. Neither of us had anything in our bags that would have of produced that smell if spilt , so we were a bit confused.

A few minuites down the road we stopped for breakfast but decided to have a quick gasper first.

"Welgar have you got a lighter?"

" Its ok there is a box of matches in the car"

At this point we had only opened the car doors and stepped out. I look in

NO MATCHES

WTF

Searched the car could not find the matches!

As i found out the next day going back a few generations my mums family has strong roots around the loch clan stronghold and all that. All i can think of is that the ancient ones really dont approve of smoking.


Im normally a skeptical person but this was just too bizarre for me .

EDIT : Forgot to add we went for a drive around the loch and came across an old viking graveyard , so stopped for a look. My digital camera has not worked properly since . It just keeps getting streaky lines through pictures. Never had any problems with it before.
(welgar, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 9:57, 1 reply)

I promise it won't go to "I Love Horses"
Just found this: it made me laugh...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 9:48, 10 replies)

Why is it...

That within 5 minutes of getting paid, all my money has magically 'disappeared' from my bank account?

It is a most perplexing mystery...
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 7 Jul 2008, 9:36, 3 replies)

Bindun?
The continued success of:
Big Brother
Amy Winehouse
X Factor
Hollyoakes / 'Enders / Corrie / Emerdale
Pete Doherty (speaking of which: the biggest mystery here is how a baghead can be so fat)
Nickleback
Coldplay
(ScousersPet, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 9:30, 6 replies)

London Brothers Hotel.
Its now getting on thirty years since I worked at this hotel. (Its still there, run by another company, on the corner of North Gower Street, right above Euston Square tube, for anyone that might like to 'ghosthunt')

Anyway, I was 'living in', receiving what seemed like a pittance but was probably a fair wage. One of the unofficial 'perks' was that we could get into the kitchen in the evening and grab milk and cornflakes.

So, one evening, I went to go into the kitchen and found the door locked. The 'chef' (he cooked egg and bacon for breakfast) was out, so I decided to go through the dining area as that had a passage to the kitchen.
I unlocked the doors, stepped in and turned the lights on.

Stood at one of the tables, leaning forward as if putting something down, was a woman in a green dress.
As I started to say something she straightened up and vanished.
Now people don't just vanish.
I logically thought she'd moved away, so went and checked the toilets (she couldn't have gone past me), then went through into the kitchen.
No sign of anybody.
I went back up to the reception desk and asked Brian to go and check. His immediate reaction was to say "Oh, you've met the ghost then."
He did go to check though.

His story was that during the war the building had been a nurses home, the main hospital in London being a 2 minute walk away along Gower Street.
One nurse found herself in the family way, but unmarried. (Youngsters nowadays think its not a bad thing, in fact for some they see it as a way of being an adult, but in those days it was a bad thing. Your parents could throw you out and be seen as being in the right, and society as a whole thought you were a slag.)
So she went out onto the roof and jumped.

Where the dining area was when I was there was 'below ground', and the two stories of the nurse were that either she ended up going into the steps to the cellar head first or she went into the metal railings on the edge of the steps.

Whichever, she died.

I've never been scared of ghosts, I've had no reason to be. So I tried asking in a quiet moment on my own what her name was and I got the name Elizabeth in my mind.

I told my room-mate (Eddie) about it, and he suggested we went up to what was our top floor (which had been built onto the original roof) and ask her to appear.
For some reason I thought this was a good idea.

We caught the lift to the top floor, no customers up there as it was winter and we kept them to the lower floors so we could turn the heating off on the top floors.
When you came out of the lift you turned left to go down the corridor, and there was a further left turn about half way down.

We stepped out of the lift, and stood there as the door closed. The only light was from the moon through the windows, and was quite pale.
"Are you there Elizabeth?" one of us asked?

Okay, its winter, the heatings off, but suddenly it got colder.
The far end of the corridor, the bit we couldn't see because of the left turn, started to get brighter...

Sorry, this isn't going to turn into a "we met the ghost" story.
More of a "we ran down the stairs because we didn't want to wait for the lift door to open."

For the sceptics, the decision to go meet her was spur of the moment which no-one else knew about, so there wasn't anybody at the other end with a torch. And there was no access to the other end other than the stairs or lift, where we were.

I don't know why, but I don't remember ever trying to make further contact.
Maybe I left there soon after, like I said its the best part of 30 yrs.
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Mon 7 Jul 2008, 9:14, Reply)

Years ago...
Just after my grandfather passed away, I was up in Scotland visiting my Nan. They had lived most of their lives in this crumbling, Victorian, red-brick, mid terrace house, and I was going through some of his old things in the attic, when I came across some of his old Journals.
Most of the entries were fairly innocuous, there isn’t a lot to write about when you’ve spent most of your life working in a Whiskey the Chivas Regal distillery, but in some of his earlier journals there were a few harrowing, disturbing stories from the time he’d served as a medic in the army during WWII. Most notably, there was a particularly shocking description of the time he’d had to hold his friend’s intestines with his bare hands. An experience that he, as anyone would, found extremely upsetting.

They weren’t the most eye-catching tales in his dusty old journals though; the ones that really grabbed me were the ones he’d written shortly after he had moved into the old, Victorian house in the late fifties…

I carefully opened a musty smelling book that I’d found under a pile of well-worn clothes, and flicked through most of the pages without really looking. Until I found some of the later entries for that year, where for some reason his normally quite reserved style of writing seemed to take a nervous, slightly more panicked slant.
I’ve edited the entries to how I remember them, as he was a strong Scotsman, and I want for you to be able to hear these words how I remembered his voice, if possible.

November 12th 1958
The day, work was as it a’ways is, Jean’s looking as lovely as ever, and the wee one in her belly only seemed to add to just how lovely and peaceful life seems to be.
I couldnae get any sleep at aw the night though, there was this strange, scratching noise comin’ fi’ the attic aw night, an’ ev’ry time ah went ti investigate there was nothin’ there, not a mouse, pigeon, squirrel, or owt tae be seen.

A few unremarkable entries followed, and life seemed to be good for my grandparents. They both worked hard, and enjoyed their simple existence in their quiet little Scottish town.

November 23rd 1958
That feynyin’ bastard scratching returned the night, the noise seems tae travel from one side o’ the house tae the other, and back again. Every bloody time I went up they stairs, the noise stopped, and every bloody time ah went back tae mah bed, it started again.
Ah’m laying some traps the morrow, I’ll catch that buckin’ wee shite any way I have tae.

I have to admit, that at this point the hairs on the back of my neck raised, but I wasn’t scared. It was a little strange, but I wasn’t frightened. Over the next couple of weeks my grandfather wrote entries about his traps always turning up empty, and the scratching noises returning more frequently than before. The sleep deprivation was starting to take its toll, his work was slipping, his handwriting became messier, but all the while my grandmother slept through it all, not once did he mention any of this waking her.

December 9th 1958
Last night the scratching was worse than ever, ah couldnae get a moment’s peace. At one point, just as I could finally feel myself falling asleep, the room was FREEZIN’. When ah opened me eyes, the bloody bedroom windae was wide open. Ah cannae tell if the latch is broken, it wisnae even windy oot last night. Ah cannae ken how that windae was opened.

December 10th 1958
I have got tae get masel’ some sleep, this is really driving me crazy. How does the noise no keep Jean awake? Why only me? The night ahm stayin’ oot o’ the hoose, she’ll be awright for the night by hersel’. I just need to get some rest.

December 11th 1958
Last night I got masel’ plenty of sleep roond at Tom’s hoose, ah feel much stronger, healthier and fitter for it. I know that all o’ this silly nonsense is just in mah mind, the night I know I’ll get plenty of sleep wi’ Jean.

December 12th 1958
Ah really dunnae ken wit tae write. Ah dinnae ken what ah saw. Anyb’dy readin’ this is going to think that I’m goin’ completely oot o’ my mind.
Last night there wisnae any scratching noise, at least, no at first.
I woke up in the middle a they night, the attic was thumpin’. Ahm sure that there was somethin’ movin’ aboot up there, an’ the windae was open again. Jesus Christ, Ah’ve never been so scared in my life. I wis fair sweatin’ like a pig, but ah wis freezin’, I’ve never felt cold like that before.
Then, in the murky darkness o’ they room, there wis a light, and they light, it just got bigger, and bigger. It looked like a woman, but ah cannae be sure. She, it, just appeared, and it stayed there, standin’ at the bottom o’ the bed, and I wis frozen to the spot. I couldnae scream, speak, or move. I jus’ stared, and stared, and after wit felt like an age, it was gone again.

December 13th 1958
Ah couldnae speak to Jean aboot what happened the other night, I couldnae speak tae anyone aboot it, they’d all think I was mad. I just thank God that the apparition didnae appear again last night, but just the worry is enough tae keep me awake now.
Jean’s taking me to church the morrow, I know that she’s worried about me, but whatever it was that ah saw, I doubt that a trip to church is going to help.

December 14th 1958



December 15th 1958
The last two nights have been the worst. She appeared again last night. I know that it’s a she now. She materialised exactly as she did before, I could feel her, looking at me.
She waited at the bottom of the bed for hours, the windae was open, but the cold was coming from her. I was frostbitten on the face and fingers, and this time she approached me. I could make out the callous look in her eyes, and her face was gnarled intae a deeply wrinkled look of pure pain. As she approached me, her mouth opened wide, and her hair flowed as though she were floatin’ in watter. I was sure that she was aboot tae tell me something, but the first rays of the sun appeared over the horizon, and she disappeared as quickly as she had materialised that first night.
Ah’ve got tae find out what she wants, it’s the only way tae get my sanity back. Tonight I’ll stay awake, and ah’m going tae find out what she needs to tell me.

December 16th 1958
I don’t think I’ll be seeing the white lady ghost again.
She appeared last night, a freezing wind howled through the open window, I sat up in bed, and Jean didnae stir even once.
The white lady approached mah bed, the pained look in her eyes turned my insides to cold stane, and ah gripped mah quilt so tight that the blood disappeared from my fingers. She leaned close to my cheek, the side of my face burned from the cold, and I felt as though her pointed teeth were chewing on my ear. She didnae speak at first, she just waited there, and I gulped. Ah was truly terrified, in ways that ah don’t think anyb’dy could ever understand. Her ghostly arm raised itsel’, and a bony finger pointed to the open window, where, another small light was slowly starting to appear.
I could feel her face, she was almost kissing mine, I was petrified of what would happen next. Then she spoke slowly, her voice was rasped and weary,
‘Over there…. you see him…?’
I looked to the light that was appearing by the window, it was taking a form, smaller than the white lady, but a definite, recognisable shape.
It was a small animal, a horned, furry animal. A Goat, a symbol of the guardian of the underworld.
‘You see him?’ She said, ‘I’ve had him.’


The End

I’d just like to point out that all of this is fiction, and that my granddad is actually very much alive. He was a medic in the Army, and the story about him holding his friend’s intestines is true. My granddad is a great bloke, a crazy, old, chauvinistic, misogynistic bigot, but definitely a great bloke.

( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 9:02, 15 replies)

Scamp
Up until around eight or nine years ago I was firmly in the "it's complete and utter bollocks camp" about most things ethereal, until that fateful weekend....

Little Miss M was at the toddling stage and Scamp my dog, who I'd had since a pup was at the grumpy old dog stage, suddenly playing second fiddle to a noisy sleep averse little person.

The weekend in question saw me getting home on the Friday night around 21:00hrs to a house in turmoil, Little Miss M had been nipped for some reason or other unknown and the tears were flowing from both the bairn and the Mrs.

This was completely out of character for the dog who had spent the past year following Little Person around and sleeping at night (when she could no doubt) either under or near her crib/bed, a regular little doggy guard....

Scamp was dully chastised (skelped) and made to sleep in the vestibule.......

The next night when being handed toast of all things Scamp jumped up to grab it from Little Miss M and again nipped her hand this time drawing blood, not a bad cut but bad enough.

I'm pretty black and white about this kind of thing and even although I'd had the dog going on nearly 13 years I called the vet and arranged to take her around.

After explaining to the vet the circumstances I was sent home to think about it overnight which I did.

The dog was back in on the Sunday morning.

I stayed with her whilst the deed was done, holding her in my arms as she was jagged and literally feeling her turn into a dead weight as I held her.

I took her home and buried her wrapped in her own little blanket, and being honest shed a tear or two at the loss of a true friend.

Later that day after The Good Lady had went to work (it was her birthday and she was not pleased with me due to the above) I was sitting in the kitchen with Little Miss M who was playing with some toys.

Then suddenly she stopped playing with her toys and looked around at the closed kitchen door, she got up and toddled over as small children do and banged on the door for me to open as "Scamp wanted in"................

When I opened the door she didn't leave the kitchen she simply stood at the door and called on Scamp to come in "there's a good girl, it's alright now".

I couldn't see what she was talking to in the hall but I gently eased her back into the kitchen even as she protested that Scamp wanted in to play and closed the door (and no i didn't look).

I gently explained that Scamp had to go somewhere special and wouldn't be back........

I don't know what the bairn saw that day.

Maybe it was the overactive imagination of a child or maybe it was just an open mind seeing an old friend have one last turn around the place before she finally left........
(Dark Matter All The Wonders In The World & We Invent Boredom, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 8:47, 4 replies)

My bicycle is haunted.....
I cycle to work each day, usually without incident, that is, until I read some of these posts, and posted a few myself.

Today, my front wheel started to really wobble on the way to work. When I got off to investigate, the metal bars extending between the hub and the rim of a wheel had become loose.

Spokey eh ?
(ISignedUpToTalkShit but that was another QOTW, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 8:29, Reply)

Coke
Always tastes better in a glass bottle. Explain that!
(Visionaryofthe1980s www.myspace.com/visionariesofthe1980s, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 5:54, 4 replies)

July 4th 2007
My dad and I are out watching the fireworks at about 10pm. When they all subside, we can see what looks like a satellite (because of the fact it had no blinking lights and was moving in the same fashion).

What we didn't expect was for this thing to stop, turn blood-red, turn about 45 degrees and then increase speed at an incredible rate until it was out of sight.

We still talk about this. Could it be that it was some form of intelligent life that saw the fireworks covering most of North America and wanted to investigate?

Perhaps.
( Grokthought wouldn't pay that for Chinese 5-Spice, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 5:08, 6 replies)

I've mentioned before
that I had a cousin who killed himself. I didn't really deal with it very well, and was a bit of a mess for some time afterwards. I couldn't come to terms with the fact he was gone or the way in which he went.

One night, though, I had a dream. It started off fairly normally, like most of the other nonsensical dreams I have..... I was in the pub with the missus and her sister, but we had to leave because she wanted to go to the pub (it made sense in the dream) so we were walking from the pub to.... well, the same pub when I nipped in to my parents house for some reason. The phone was ringing so I answered it.

It was my sister in law, who I had just left outside (it was an odd dream). But then, everything became very vivid. She said "Do you know who this is?" I said yes, but she replied "No, you don't. It's me." I was fairly confused, even in dream terms, but the voice continued "I know you've been worrying about me. I wanted to let you know I'm OK. Stop worrying. I'm fine."

Then I woke up. For the first time in several months, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but at that point I didn't know why. I remembered the dream a few hours later.

I know, I'm being daft, but I like to think it was him letting me know he was OK. Why it was my sister in law's voice though, I dunno.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 1:09, Reply)

More of an observation, but...I saw this advert when I was a young lad....
Was for Levi jeans I believe, and the music was that awful tune Spaceman (I always wanted you to gooooooooo) and there's that chick in it, with her haunting eyes, her striking skin, the incredible shape, with no obvious intent of destroying the human race, most clearly threatening was the sheer comfort and power of her alien space jeans. Yea, she was fit as f*ck.
( Dazz - In Your Base, Killing Your Dudes since, Mon 7 Jul 2008, 0:30, Reply)

One explained and one unexplained.
At around age 8 I was standing around outside at night, looking at the moon. All of a sudden in front of the moon flew a giant triangle with a serrated back, sort of like a bat's wing. It made no noise. I was ecstatic and remained convinced that it was an alien spaceship until I saw the exact same craft on television a couple of years later...turns out it was a B-2 Spirit stealth bomber. I guess I had conveniently forgotten that I live about six miles away from a major US Army/Air Force base. Even if it wasn't a spaceship like I desperately hoped it was, it was still a damn cool sight.

At 14, I was staying with a compulsive liar of a friend who claims to have seen ghosts in her house, which was long ago the servant quarters for the large horse farm nearby. Laying on the floor watching South Park while my friend slept, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked at it. It appeared to be a puff of smoke, quite small, about the size of a tomato, sort of off-white with a hint of iridescence. It seemed to roll about an inch above the floor, across the room, under a table, and then dissolved into the wall. I'm sure there's a logical explanation but I can't think of one.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Sun 6 Jul 2008, 23:05, 1 reply)

Ghost
Way back in the mists of time, I spent some time in the Army, and basic training consisted of going out into the field at one point, and shoot other people for the hell of it (with blanks, of course).
Second night out, off we go on patrol, and are wandering around, radio squawks, we are going to ambush the Coldstream Guards (who are also training in the area). This means we can get swift dirty kicks in, the odd punch, and set off traps which will fuck up their night vision. So, trip wires in place, get snuggly down amonst the leaves, and thumbs up to glen on the other side of the path- "Ready to prod some buttock", as we used to say. After about 10 minutes, the squad hears footsteps rustling through the woods, its fairly clear, I can see my oppos face clearly. Closer they came. I hear the soft clicks of the safety catches being clicked off, ready to make a guardsman shit himself. Closer they come. On his own? We can only hear one set of footsteps. Glen looks quizzical, as do I. And then the footsteps went right down the path between us, walking straight through- And not a thing was there. Just the sound of a heavy pair of feet. No trip wires went off, and all the time I was looking at Glen, who had eyes like saucers. And then- they stopped.
Can you guess what we did, the flower of the nations youth, fearless, ready to face any adversary? Thats right- we fucked off pronto, the opposite way from where they stopped. And then 5 minutes later we saw and heard a mighty commotion, as the guardsmen did walk into the ambush in the end, and flares were going off, thunderflashes, and shots everywhere, so we didn't have to explain why we chickened out.
Length? Damn it, it touched cloth!
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Sun 6 Jul 2008, 21:45, Reply)

Pub tales.
My brother, uncle and I drink at a pub called 'The White Horse Inn' in a village called Boughton-Under-Blean, the pub is very much haunted. I personally haven't been there to witness any of the ghostly goings on but there are lots of people who confirm they did actually happen. Here be a list of the ones I know of at the moment.

1. One Christmas eve my brother, uncle and several other people were in the pub, my uncle was helping out behind the bar as the landlord at the time was short-staffed. As it was Christmas eve there were decorations up around the pub and down one side of the bar there were a series of paper-chains hanging from the ceiling which you would be facing if you were behind the bar. My uncle was pouring a pint for somebody when he stopped and pointed towards the paper-chains, everyone turned around and each individual chain swayed from side to side, one after the other as if somebody had walked under them and brushed them and they went. No windows of anything were open so it couldn't have been a draft or anything like that.

2. One of the staff was vacuuming the upstairs rooms and somebody kept pulling the plug out of the wall socket as soon as the vacuum was switched on.

3. My uncle opened a door that had been locked moments before without him realising so that he could go through to the smaller of the two bars so he could get some cigarettes and came back again but as somebody else tried the door when he came back and it was locked again.

4. One of the landlords of the pub was a South African guy who used to be a police man, was built like the proverbial brick shit-house and was scared of practically nothing. He was doing something in the kitchen of the pub on his own and he swears blind that someone climbed out of the oven and walked across the kitchen and out through the wall, he refused to go in the kitchen again and left the pub soon after.

It's entirely likely that there are lots of other stories about the place and it used to be an old coach house and has burnt down about 3 times in it's history. And the houses across the road from it used to be a morgue apparently.
(OzEden is probably clinically insane, Sun 6 Jul 2008, 21:38, 4 replies)

Religion
Now, you may not know, but I am fervently atheist, and have no truck with all this happy-clappy stuff whatsoever. However, some things have happened which have brought on a "WTF?" moment, the last being:
I went to Egypt last year, to the Sharm-El-Sheikh area. Now, our main reason for going there was to go to Cairo to visit the Pyramids, and generally do some snorkelling, however, as our friends are religious (Neil is a lay preacher, and I incessantly mock him about talking to his imaginary friends- he just laughs, and thwacks me with whatever cap he is wearing that day), we all decided to go up to ST Catherines Monastery. For those of you that don't know, this is the site of the burning bush, and is obviously regarded as one of the most holy sites.
So, best behaviour taken on board, tongue bitten, as I really want to see the Sinai Mountains- which we did, and it was stunning. However, one of our party (Neils father), whilst there suddenly develops a really bad dose of the squits, and keeps getting a pain in his chest. We get a doctor when we get back to the hotel, all is well. However, the moment he landed in England, his squits started up again, and then went on for 2 weeks, and no amount of Immodium or whatever would stop it, so he is whisked off to the infirmary for an endoscopy- at which they discover he has a small malignant tumour in his lower bowel.
Spooky? Maybe. But add this- remember the pain in his chest? They give him an MRI scan to check the growth of the tumour- and discover an Aneurism. Never felt any pain before or after the visit.
And yes, he has had both ops, and is doing very well, but nonetheless- why did it all show itself there?
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Sun 6 Jul 2008, 21:28, 4 replies)

Before I forget....
Once, in the dark, angry days of my marriage, myself and the disagreeable midden I was shackled to had one of our frequent falling outs, resulting in me being parked in the spare bed. I was reading a book and stewing over whatever trivial matter had been blown out of all proportion, when I heard a slight *tap*. I didn't think much of it, but then .... *tap*. *tap*. I got out of bed and tried to track down the source...... it seemed to be coming from the middle of the room. A little freaked out, I nonetheless began tryin to communicate. I tapped once, very gently, on the floor. I received a disembodied *tap* in reply. I tapped twice.... two taps answered. I was now UTTERLY convinced that I was communicating with the "other side" and sat there, gently tapping the floor for a good two minutes. It was then that I looked up and saw the horrifying source of the strange sounds!

There, on the ceiling, was a large damp patch. A pipe in the loft had started leaking and water was dripping onto the ceiling with a gentle *tap*. I felt a proper mong, but the tale at least assuaged my newly roused wife's rage at her ruined ceiling.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sun 6 Jul 2008, 21:09, Reply)