this happened earlier
I was ambling through the interweb reading about ghoststories and such as this QOW intrigued me
i clicked on a link to www.ghostlyshockhorror.com and all of a sudden my dog started woofing like hell and my cats went absolutely psycho the second the page loaded despite the fact they were fast asleep a minute before.
they carried on being idiots until i left the page
wierd eh?
(Freddles, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 5:42, 11 replies)

I don't think I am going to explain this one very well...
About 6 years ago, I was studying drama at school. We had a very cool young drama teacher, and he was always taking us up to London to see a show. This means that the journey home wouldn't be til about 11pm. One night, we were walking through the street to get to the underground, and a bedraggled 'trampish' man came running up to us, dressed in old black trousers and an old black shirt, shouted something along the lines of 'They won't leave me alone, I can't control him' and then jumped. He put all of his energy into this jump. It was quite high, but not astonishingly high. But I swear, as does everyone else on that school trip, that for just a second, that man hovered in mid-air. Before we knew it, a couple of coppers had shown up out of nowhere and dragged him off. He kept screaming 'Jagged', or maybe 'Jacket'.

Still haunts my dreams.
(bobman500 enjoys a grope as much as the next fella, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 5:11, Reply)

Unidentified Flying Cloud
Many years ago, a mate and I were sitting in a field in the middle of nowhere getting stoned for no reason other than we were kids with fuck all else to do. picture the sky, some clouds, not a huge ammount. but enough. slowly floating from left to right. we didnt notice where it came from, but we both noticed it together, this odd cloud, floating from right to left and moving considerably faster than all the other clouds, it was apparantly weaving in and out of other clouds, able to change direction almost at will. after a few minutes it "parked" up beside one of the normal clouds and what looked like a probe or robotic arm seemed to protrude from this cloud, first moving out from the cloud, then moving accross towards the other cloud. yet this arm was made out of cloud. it appeared to couple with the normal cloud for a while, before retracting back into the uber-cloud. once this was completed, said cloud then headed off back to whereever it came from, again moving considerably faster than all of the other clouds and disappearing off into the horizon.

we both saw it and we both described it in exactly the same way.
( Kingtoke was shit at life on, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 4:50, 3 replies)

I just took a trip to the fridge..
For to acquire a sausage roll.

Get the pack out; '10 snack sausage rolls'.

Really? I see only 8.. 10 spaces, 8 sausage rolls.

Packet's sealed and everything.

That, is a tale of the unexplained. I am truly baffled. And after opening the pack myself I find they're not even that nice. Something ain't right..
(HellHathFury Christ on his pushbike, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 4:20, 1 reply)

ESP
.
How many of you believe in Ghosts? Put your hands up. Hmm. Quite a few.

How many of you believe in telepathy? Put your hands up. Again, quite a few.

And those of you that believe in telekinesis? - Put my hand up.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 3:36, 3 replies)

George Bush
That is all.
(romega Lesbian Licker, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 2:36, Reply)

It beats me how a popular 'humour' site can offer a Hitler and 'gollywog' icon to its loyal subscribers
and not get investigated by the anti-Nazi league, and/or the FBI.

It's also something of a mystery that prominent academics can not only fail to denounce but outwardly support such right-wing sympathies, but I guess the fact that the education system in this country is solely geared towards upper-middle class straight white English Etonians solves the mystery. After all, no MP worth their salt would let any court in the land put their old schoolfriends on trial, would they?
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 1:57, 8 replies)

Ghosts, psychics, astrology, acupuncture, premonitions, homeopathy, hypnosis, telepathy...
Fuck off and grow a brain, morons.

That is all.
( ArghZombies No longer has a Leaky QUIM, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 1:52, 16 replies)

True story, but apologies in advance for length.
You remember the UFO flap a few years back, when we had Nick Pope "Britain's Own Fox Mulder^tm" telling us about major UFO incidents in the UK?
Well, there's one story that he kept trotting out about a UFO being spotted at a major UK airfield. This story he said, MUST have been a genuine UFO incident because it had been spotted by the base's guards and also, critically, by Air Traffic Controllers and a trained Meteorological Observer, who would therefore be ideally suited to gauge the height, size, and speed of the object in question (having been well experienced in gauging cloud heights and weather balloon heights and speeds).
Unfortunately however, this incident turned out to be more a case of how easy it is to fool even an experienced observer. Or, more accurately, how people tend to see what they've been set up to expect to see.
Over the previous couple of weeks there had been major airtime and press coverage of UFOs over England. When the first calls were made to the Met office on the night in question the observer shrugged them off. However after the gate guards also rung up to tell him they'd seen the UFO he went outside again and saw what he described as "Three lights at the angles of a very large triangular object, moving extremely quickly to the south of the airfield, after a few minutes a fourth beam of light appeared from the object directed to the ground."
The "Extremely large" object he'd actually seen was a Police Helicopter, as was later established from it's flight log. However, because he (and the guards for that matter) was subconciously expecting to see a UFO, that's what he reported. The airfield had been closed for the night as it was a weekend with no night flying scheduled, so there weren't actually any Air Traffic Controllers on duty. Had there been they would undoubtedly have been able to contact the UFO, bursting the myth there and then.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Sat 5 Jul 2008, 1:42, 3 replies)

Meditation
My ex was into the spiritual and supernatural stuff. I never got into it myself, but in the vein of mutual respect being healthy for a relationship I never poo-pooed her ideas either. If she wanted to play with tarot, mystics and tea leaves then that was fine by me. Ouija was a different matter – I am not a big fan of people messing with that sort of stuff even if I am a sceptic. Leave the dead alone in my opinion. However, she was more into the ‘softer’ side of it all so no drama.

She went through a phase of getting right into theosophy, where science, philosophy and religion try to hold hands and come up with a mutually acceptable cosmic view. Quite healthy stuff, even if some of it was a bit out there for me, like the reincarnation aspect. But she was a happy investigating it all so I was happy with it too.

Anyway, at one stage in the relationship we took a trip around Asia and checked out all the temples, did the meditation stuff with the monks and all that jazz. Cool fun really. We ended up in India, right in the east in the Garjat Hills, near Bangladesh. We stayed in this little village up in the hills where things were simple and everyone was very welcoming. While we were there we got talking to some German backpackers who told us about this shaman/priest type guy who would let you watch his ceremonies and even take pictures, which was pretty rare and a definite draw card for the missus. More to the point, he led meditation sessions and apparently taught techniques that really heightened the experience. That was the deal-maker and the missus decided we were off to see this chap, no matter what.

So we take a bus into the middle of nowhere, then hire a guide to take us up a goat track deep into the hills. Took a few hours but it was worth it because it was ultra speccy. Anyway, we get to this little hut and there was this shaman/priest dude sitting outside. He looked like he was 200 years old, really gnarled and wizened. He was barefoot and had obviously done lots of miles in his time as the skin on his feet was so thick it was like he had grown his own shoes. He was as skinny as a rake and it looked like a strong breeze would carry him off. And he stank, especially his breath! It was offensive enough to stop a bulldozer! In fact, he was a super-calloused fragile mystic hexed with halitosis.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 1:34, 6 replies)

The Father, The Swings and The Gostly Wire, Arsehole.
If any of you out there have read my QOTW posts on terrible parenting and sleepwalking regarding my father, you will know that this man is the high cunt of the cunts. If you have not, please read them now before reading this. www.b3ta.com/users/profile.php?id=60088

Our story takes place in the summer of 1992; it must have been midweek night as my father only stayed in during weekdays as his weekends were for getting lashed with the lads. Myself, mum, my pal Danny and his mum were taking an evening stroll around the local park with our respected ‘shit machine’ pooches. It was a beautiful evening; the bloodshot sky commanded a regal majesty and the air wrapped everything around it in a blanket of warm mothering comfort, one of those summer evenings that you wish would never end. But by the end of the night I was wishing that day away. After several hours of meandering it was decided that we would all go back to my house. “Perfect” I think to myself; me and Danny could play my NES and our parents could talk bollocks while drinking wine, the evening was set.

We arrive back at my house, the dogs are set down for the night, mother tells me and Danny that we cannot play on the swings at the bottom of the garden as my father had informed her earlier in the week that they are not safe to use at the moment, so to the lounge it was then for some NES action. It did not argue with my mother about the use of the swings due to my eagerness to play some Mario but I did think it was a bit strange that they were broken, as I was playing on them earlier in the day and all seemed fine to me. But fuck it, Mario here we come.

We must have been back from the park for at least an hour and all was still in the house, father had obviously buggered off out while we were dog walking, my sister was staying at her friends house and the dog was fast asleep. Mother beckons us to come out from the living room and sit on the decking, no we replied as this was before the days you could save a computer game. But she made us come out to ‘enjoy’ the evening and stop ‘frying our brains’. Sitting down, listening to our parents talk utter bollocks about the neighbours was like having root canal surgery and knowing Mario was only 10 feet away made it even worse but we cracked out some comics and read away. Little did we know that our evening was about to change for the worse?

Without a gust of wind in the air one of the swings suddenly moves in a perfect arc. I was the only one to see this and I alerted this to everyone’s presence only to be told it was probably a cat or something. At this point I am a little alarmed and being a swing connoisseur I knew it was a perfect arc that could only be created by someone or something sitting on it. The logical part of my brain was telling to me to investigate but I was far too petrified to be that brave, and besides it was fifty feet away and it was getting dark. All was quiet for about a minute or so, everyone went back to talking bollocks and reading comics, then the second swings moves. Again, it was a perfect arc but this time, just to add more creepy tension, the swing creaked. This time I was not alone in the experience as my friend’s mother had spotted the strange movement, suddenly all was not well in our garden. My mother was still sceptical until both swings and the see-saw moved in perfect harmony, now panic had set in across the group. Cries of “what the fuck” came bellowing out of my usually calm mother, her friend started to shake and wanted to go home, my friend Danny had started to cry and yours truly needed the toilet as it was bicycle clip time.

The swings kept moving for about thirty seconds and then there was a sudden halt to the paranormal proceedings. A deadly calm set over the four of us, looks of collective paranoia were passed from one to another, my mother went to the rear entrance of the house only to find the door had been locked. She started to yank and hammer at the door like a possessed demon and to add to this panic the swings suddenly started to arc again. I was crying and screaming, so was my friend; this situation was getting out of hand. Then silence hit us again, it was like the eye of the storm, and we knew there maybe more to come so we huddled together to collectively gain some courage. Then the maniac laughter began from above, it was pure evil, and it was straight from the bowels of hell. From the bedroom above a light suddenly came on and the laughter grew, we stepped cautiously further into the garden to investigate. From the brightness of the room my fathers head could be seen, it was leaning backwards trying to stop a heart attack brought on by gut laughing. Then he moves his hands into the light and the swings behind us move again. Think evil puppet master at this point.

This is why he is a cunt!!! He had used invincible wire to connect up the swings to his hands. My first question is where the fuck did he get the wire from, secondly how the hell did he rig it up and thirdly why? He did it because he in plain and simply a cunt, the rig took him a few hours of careful planning and sneaking around and he nicked the wire from an old theatre he and his brothers were renovating the week before. What kind of sick mind does this? Oh, the door thing, he creped down and very very sneakily locked the door while everyone was talking. I have never been so scared in my fucking life and if you have read the Freddy Krueger story you will know that he fucked me up like this before. Mother was less than impress, friend and his mother eventually saw the funny side and I have learned from the best.

Length- about fifty feet of invincible wire
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 1:06, 8 replies)

I've many a tale to tell....
May as well tell them all in one sitting. Apologies in advance for length.

Me, my sister and my mum have always felt people downstairs. Sometimes you hear things moving such as the tv remote scratching the glass of the table or a quiet thump when you're trying to sleep. Whoever they are, they're not noisy but sometimes you can sense them when you walk through the living room or the upstairs hallway as if they're waiting on the stairs. I used to hang on to bannisters as I walked past but found that just saying a cheery hello or goodnight makes it better.

There is also a cat who my mum and sister fall over. They saw it quite regularly for a while, despite the fact we've never had a cat.

A year or so back my family went on holiday and I was left with the whole house. I'd chat away in case anyone really was there, as I imagine being dead can be a bit lonely, but liked my lie-ins as I always have done. One particularly lazy morning I head the scuff of someone's jeans as they walked up the stairs. Thinking it was my sister come to call me lazy I rolled over only to remember she was gone and that I must have made it up. Then it knocked on my door. It wasn't creaking, it was loud and precise. Even the ghosts think I'm a lazy sod. So I told it I was getting up.

We also sometimes find broken matches when cleaning. This is from when mum was a wee girl and despite no one smoking they used to find broken matches littering their house. It seems to have joined us here.

There have been bad experiences too.

For instance, sometimes there are figures standing beside our beds. My sister once saw a man standing over my bed, my mum saw a figure at the bottom of her bed and I once felt that there was someone in the hall. I didn't go to check if I was being a mental person because of being bloody terrified. When I was wee and in my own room I awoke to find a bodiless head floating beside my bed. Now this I have to admit could have been my little self dreaming but it felt so real and I lay awake in a sweat for an age and a half terrified. I kept my eyes screwed up and it kept looking at me as if checking to see if I was awake or not. It seemed to be waiting for me so I hid under the covers.

There have been plenty other things in the family such as my sceptical dad waking up to find the previous owner of his friend's house, a little old lady who'd died, peering over him to see who he was, my gran who had men stand over her bed talking about how she was not the one they were after, and my gran and papa surviving in their little tent on a hill during a storm as someone seemed to hold their tent down although nobody was there.
( vix0r was not Matthew on, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 1:00, 2 replies)

My in-law's house has dogs...
... more dogs than a straight head-count would have you believe.

Y'see, my fiancee's parents (so they're not strictly speaking the in-laws *yet*, but that's neither here nor there) have pretty much always had Labradors. I'm not really a dog person, but I like Labradors and as long as I'm throwing a ball or feeding them they seem to like me.

Now a couple of years ago, I was over at my fiancee's parents house. We were house-sitting, as they'd gone off on holiday with both dogs. I was sitting upstairs footering with the computer, and my fiancee was off out somewhere. I'd just made a cup of tea, and done the thing we've all done "I must take the do- ah, no, no dogs so no walk" thing. Then I heard, quite clearly, one of the dogs settling down for a snooze. "Humph " as I've heard them do many times, that big world-weary Labrador sigh, the clink of a doggy tag and the thumping of a tail against the wall by their bed.

Now here's the thing, I didn't think anything of this until the second time it happened. I've also been sitting upstairs in my fiancee's old bedroom while house-sitting, and not-quite-seen the most recently deceased dog pop her nose round the door, just to see if the coast was clear before hopping up on the bed. I'm not even particularly a believer in the "spirit world", but I'm damn sure I've sat for ten minutes with a dog that's not there at my feet.

It's kind of comforting, really.
(gordonjcp, Sat 5 Jul 2008, 0:51, Reply)

I've died and come back!!
Long time ago I was playing 'golf' with a friend. Our gear consisted of a driver, 7 iron, 9 iron, a putter and a slack handful of worn golfballs purchased from a Pawn Shop.

We were playing in the old 'Welfare Grounds' which was basically a few playing fields and a cricket pitch. Before heading out to play my mum had warned us not to get into any trouble. The cricket team particularly didnt like the idea of kids belting golf balls across the cricket pitch!!

We'd basically welly the balls around and aim for the general direction of a corner of one of the playingfields where we'd dug a small hole as the cup, staying clean or the cricket pitch. A far cry from hoodies, buckfast and stabbings we see in todays youth!

I'd taken my shot (badly) and was standing off to one side waiting for the other kid to take his shot. He took an almight swing with a 7 iron, missed the ball and the next thing I remember is hearing ringing inside my head, getting tunnel vision and seeing the ground coming up to meeet my face. I didnt feel the blow at all but I kinda knew right away what had happened even as I saw the grass (in minute detail) coming up to meet me....or rather as I fell down to meet it.

This is where it gets strange and it also happened a long time before I knew about out of body experiences.
I remember ‘the tunnel of light’ a bit like the worm hole from Stargate really. I felt compelled to go to the end of it and when I got there it was like I was stood in a large open space. There was something that resembled mist or fog, thick enough that I couldn’t make out the people around me in detail, but thin enough that I could see them moving around. In the middle of this area was what I can only describe as a white fence with a gate of sorts and thats when I knew ‘shit was wrong’!!

There in the fog on the other side, barely visible, but instantly recognisable by her voice was my grandmother saying ‘’You’ve got to come with me now Tony (for that is my name). Come over here, it’s alright. Come on across’’. Somehow my mind told me what was happening and I had a crystal clear thought that whatever happened had killed me outright and that if I did as I was told, I’d be dead and stuck in whatever place this was!
I turned to her and said ‘’No, I can’t come over. I promised mum that I wouldn’t get into any trouble’’ She replied that I wouldn’t be in any trouble but I just kept repeating myself, adamant that I couldn’t do as she asked because I’d get in trouble.
Things get freakier right about now.......she says ‘’It’s your choice.’’ And the next thing I know, I’m falling, not through nothinginess, but I am falling out of the sky!! It’s like I was about 1000 feet in the air, I could see everything below me in detail. I could see the railway embankment off to one side with two people walking a dog along the top of it, the main road, the whole of the fields and there, right below me I could see Stevie shaking a very limp and prostate ‘me’!! I literally fell right INTO myself again. I can only imagine its the feeling that a parachutist with a bad chute gets as he is heading right for the ground. I ‘hit’, not the ground, but my body.
I jolted up off the ground, gasping, head pounding. Putting my hands to my head I pulled them away and they were red, soaked in thick blood. It was pumping out of a huge gash in my head, eyebrow an chin where the golf club had sliced across my face. I started screaming, like a fookin schoolgirl. IT hurt like a beatch, my head was pounding and I just kept screaming in sheer pain and shock.
As I pulled myself up off the ground, we headed as quick as we could towards Stevies house but I had to stop after about 50 yards through the dizziness, it was then that I spotted the two people and dog running across the field from the gap in the fence in the railway embankment, dog running alongside them. I was sure then that something fookin weird had happened.
I never mentioned any of this to anyone, literally not for 10 or more years, then confided in my mum about everything that happened. What I didn’t know is what Stevie had told everyone after I was rushed off to the hospital for a few stitches and a lot of ice packs on my head. He told them that after I hit the ground I wasn’t breathing. For 2 or 3 minutes he panicked and was just shaking me harder and harder, then I just jumped like I’d had an electric shock and thats when the screaming started.
I’ve had many, many weird things happen to me, probably enough to fill a whole QOTW and keep everyone entertained. Maybe post some more later! As for this experience, all I can say is that for some reason, I believe you get three chances to leave this life. The first two you get a choice, but the third is final. Dont ask me why that thought is in my head, it just is. Cats get nine ffs!!!!
(indigo_prime, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 23:20, 1 reply)

Black man
I've just remembered another from when I was knee high to a grass hopper.

I used to get woken in the night by, well I don't actually know what it was, but anyway I used to wake up in the middle of the night.

Now, everytime I would wake up I would go to the landing outside my room (my parents room was on the same landing, next to mine) and lean over the banisters and say "Mr black man". Doing this would then lead to hearing running from downstairs, along the downstairs hall, then a "black man" - not racist, but black, as in a black shape of a man, a dark shadow running up the stairs towards me.

I would then run into my parents room and dive into their bed crying.

If I hadn't kept saying that, then it probably wouldn't have happened, but for some reason I couldn't help it.

I remember telling my mum about it, and she did the whole "black people are the same as white people". Yes, but not _this_ one. He's in our house, and only appears in the middle of the night after calling him and has no features, just darkness..right, perfecly normal.

Then it suddenly stopped.

Still creeps me out to this day.
( P, Benny P, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 23:06, 5 replies)

I'm not a spiritualist, nor a sceptic, nor am I religious in any way.
I cannot explain any of the things which have happened to me, but they do tend to persist.

When I was a nipper, I lived in a cottage on a farm just outside Hawick, Scotland. My bedroom door had a massive glass panel in it. Every night I saw the shape of a man outside. Sometimes pacing the landing, with accompanying footsteps, and at other times, he'd be leaning against it facing away. When he leaned, I could always smell pipe smoke. Always. Apparently, one night of fitful sleep had me screaming and shouting at him because he was sitting at the end of my bed, touching my feet. When my parents came rushing into the room, they saw no man, woman or beast. No rattling of windows denoting an escaping peado or anything. He just vanished.

That was my first experience that I remember. It really shit me up and I would not sleep on my own for ages after.

A little bit of back story helps me explain this one, if only to myself.
The day I was born, my Dad's grandmother died. Something like 2 or 3 hours before I spawned. Some relatives reckon she was making room for my sorry arse.
Anyway, I'm babbling. When I lived in Scotland, she was never there. When I moved to Plymouth, I began to see the image of an old woman looking out of my window. Even when I moved house, she was there. When I moved back to Scotland, she wasnt there. I moved to London a few years later, she re-appeared. Same stance, same height, same clothes and hair, et al. Then I moved back to Scotland AGAIN, and again she vanished. Gives me the fear, that does. Now I'm in England again, she hasnt re-appeared. Last time I saw her, she began to turn round to show me her face for the first time, but before I could, she vanished. I like to think its my Dad's grandmother watching over me, and not just some aged stalker from beyond the grave. I'm wondering if she'll make a re-appearance when I get to Africa.

In one of the houses I lived in before, the stairs had a turn halfway down. Like a partial spiral. Every time I walked down those stairs, I could feel the presence of something or someone watching me. No idea who or what it was, but there was definatley something there.

For me, spooky shit. For most other people, horse shit.

Apologies for length, but I had a spectral stalker for almost 19 years.
(King of Swandanavia Proud owner of the worlds first Flong, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 22:53, Reply)

Black Horse
A couple of years back some friends of mine bought the Black Horse in Pluckley. Now, if you've ever heard of this place, its bloody haunted!

I lived there for about 3 months with my mate doing it up after the previous landlord had ripped everything out. Not being a particular believer in these things wasnt too worried about the whole living there.

Oops.

The first night we were there we slept on sofas upstairs. Just falling asleep when I hear footsteps, I know its not my mate as he fell asleep before me - and he sleeps like a log, anyway it gets closer and then stops by the sofa im on. By this point i have my head in the sleeping bag, heart racing, and generally bricking it.

Next day, find a 'secret' staircase upstairs, nothing at the top except 2 chairs facing each other.

I used to sit in the kitchen talking out loud, just mentioning that we were trying to sort the place out, and not meaning to ruin it. (which we didn't)

Oh, and there was a room which had a shower in, never went in there. Something very very very weird about that room.

Getting the shivers writing this.

Appologies about length, its natural.
( P, Benny P, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 22:51, Reply)

Two pearoasts:
Number one:
When my son was about 2 1/2, he had just learned to speak and was busily exercising this new skill. We were driving and he started to cry in the back seat. I asked him what was wrong. He told me he was so sad because Baby Jack had died. I was completely taken aback and tried to explain I'd never lost a child. He said, "No, no, before."

I got all goosebumpy (again) and asked more questions. Apparently, we lived long ago and Baby Jack got very sick. We didn't have any money for the doctor and Jack "took sick" and died. James had a different name then and I was married to a different man than his current dad. I was so sad Jack passed away I went down to the bridge and fell in the water. I had a long dress and it held me down and I died, too.

I asked James where the bridge was and he said "You know, the really big bridge. By the really big clock."

He doesn't remember this story now. The odd thing is, I absolutely love England and I'm unreasonably terrified of drowning.


Number Two:
This actually made TV in the States
In one of the classes I taught (before my time , though) there were two friends. One man was a little older by than the other, but they had moved to the same small rural town from opposite coasts, each independently found a job in the same nursing home and became friends. They had a ton of interests in common and really clicked. People used to joke they looked and sounded alike enough to be brothers. They thought it was hilarious and decided to take the nurse's aide class together.

During the segment on early childhood and how early trauma affects people, one guy offered that he understood about that because his mother had abandoned him and his siblings in a drug house when he was a toddler. It was a few days before someone discovered them.

His friend turns to him and exclaims, "Dude, me too!"

"Well, this was in Detroit back in 19whatever."

"Wow, in Detroit? Same as me, only I was so little I was in diapers. I don't have any brothers or sisters. I think."

Now, when I heard this, goosebumps rose up my arms and I got a chill. I asked the teacher, man, what did you think? She said it still hadn't occured to her that maybe they were brothers. Duh.

They were brothers. All 6 or 7 of the family had been scattered amongst foster homes and had lost track of each other. They've found a couple of sisters by now.

What are the odds both of them would come from opposites sides of the country at the same time, go to the same small town, get a job in the same small nursing home, become friends and take the same 24 member class at the same time?
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 22:09, 3 replies)

When I was 7
I had this weird dream one night about the Rugby Club in Easterside, Middlesbrough being on fire. I couldn't wait to get to school to see if I'd imagined it, and told my teacher, and my friends. You could see it from the classroom window as it was on the other side of the field. My teacher showed me it and assured me it was in tact and not on fire.

A week after that I came into school and all my mates were looking out of that window. When I looked out, there was the rugby club, burning away. Exactly like I'd pictured it in my dreams.

I've not had a dream like that since, but my mother was called, who assured the teachers that I was home that night and got a lift into school on the morning!
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 21:10, 1 reply)

You never forget...
You never forget your first experience with death; No, I am not speaking from beyond the grave, but talking about that very first instance where death jumps out from behind the safety of the evening news, the newspaper, the stories from friends etc. Hitting you in the stomach with such ferocity you are left with that sinking feeling, the insatiable hunger, the black void and you can't actually understand that this is actually happening to you.

Some four years ago I was a dramatically 'younger' little dalai and was one of the few lucky people to have lived to the age of 18 without having lost anybody special to me. No Great Great Aunt, no school friend in an accident, no neighbour I knew of: life was sweet and I had spent my years enjoying my wonderful family, friends and scarpering about on the gert lush fields of Somerset doing the varied and enjoyable things boys do in 18 years of life.

One of these people who made my upbringing so special was Grandad. A man who despite being born with debilitating condition and spent the first few years of life in hospital, struggled against all odds and grew up to live a totally unpredicted 'normal' life.

This man was loved by all and gave all he could to bring cheer and happiness to those around him: he would think nothing of the difficult, long working day shift in the motor factory and the additional nightshift at the bakery as this brought his son (my Uncle) the option to travel to the boarding college the family could otherwise never afford.

When I came into the world I was blessed enough for this man to have taken a particular shine to me. Growing up I was treated (Read: Spoiled) with trips to the zoo, days out at the beach with ice-cream and candyfloss and adventures to far away adventure parks alike. Sometimes amazing evenings were had through the simple event of a playground visit and then watching Dad's Army together as he stroked my back. As I grew up into a young teen, the support and love through my education was always felt despite this old gentleman strictly sticking to his title of 'a man of few words'.

He didn't really need words though for what he did for me: the quiet smile when I showed him my achievements, the open door and fresh lemonade poured when I arrived for a visit, that cheeky wink when I was meant to be 'told off'; all were more powerful to me than the deepest conversations from others.

So when his age and all of its accompanying demons became more powerful than the tired will of this once great man, I found myself and close family surrounding his bed; timing the ever increasing gap between breaths, and watching the rosy-pink blood vessels on his cheek retreating to leave a waxy, white reflection of our truly beloved head of the family.

He was gone. He couldn't be gone- he's always been there, how can he be gone? I knew about death, I knew the science and the biology of it, but this couldn't actually happen to MY Grandad, no matter what happens in my life, he would always be there in his home to offer the ever-present company and lemonade surely?

I couldn't actually understand that he could possibly be gone until *THUD*... this huge combine hammer of death & reality kicked me deep in the stomach, and all of a sudden, the thousand things I wanted to say, the stories I wanted to tell him and the future I wanted to show him were all impossible.

He was gone, and I had encountered my first dealing with the selfish and unforgiving death.

Later that afternoon following the doctor’s visits and endless phone calls I felt a sudden wave of claustrophobia and this house, under the dark cloud of death was too much. I escaped to the garden to 'Grandad's bench' and had a bit of a sob.

My uncle popped out and sat down next to me, gave me a hug and said a few comforting words. He gave my back a loving stroke which instantly reminded me of the days with Grandad watching Dad's Army, and then walked off leaving me in peace. I remember giving way to the tears and feeling the heat of the sun on my neck as I sat head in hands expressing my moment of grief.

Moments later I popped back inside to see everyone for more 'group' comfort only to find my mother, auntie & grandmother inside.

"Where's Uncle Paul?" I enquired, wishing to thank him for a good set of comforting words.

"Oh he's popped over to see the Reverend" answered mother.

"OK, I was just chatting to him in the garden and he made me realise something about...."

Looking up somewhat alarmed, mother, auntie & grandmother rushed to inform me he had left well over an hour ago.

At that highly confusing point, and following a minutes' intense conversation, I had a realisation that has changed my opinion on death to this day:

When we lose somebody at the end of their life, our grief is derived from a purely selfish origin- the fact that we can see them no longer and undertake all that we would like to do and share with them.

When death visits, he isn't delivering the dreaded blow to the stomach described earlier, but whisking away the tired and used-up contents of our friends and loved ones so they may suffer no longer. When we realise death is just another part of life, we are able to accept people leaving us and let them live on in the memories and stories we share to those around us.

This view upon the subject of death is indeed questionable and no doubt won't be shared by everyone, but those few minutes in the garden on Grandad's bench were more questionable than I as a sceptic and science-lover would ever have believed, yet I have drawn comfort from them both ever since.

Thank you.
( the dalai farmer always likes tea, but especially on, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 19:55, 9 replies)

a couple of years ago...
I ha woken up and, as usual, started having a quick wank. I slipped on my headphones and turned from the door.

After i had finished I turned over and saw a cup of tea lying next to me...weird eh!#


sooooooooooooooooooooo sorry
(Foulkesy123 The one and only..., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 19:43, 1 reply)

Unusual auction
I was on ebay today and I came across an interesting auction. A famous, spooky street magician had been caught cheating on his wife, so she'd chucked him out, forcing him to live in the guest apartment at the side of their home.

Being cooped up in that tiny flat reminded the levitating conjuror of the weeks he spent trapped in a glass cage without any food. The anguish was too much and he ripped out the floor of his kitchen and his bathroom in frustration.

The result was this pile of debris, put up for sale. It was the...

"Tiles of the annexed Blaine"
( chart cat has an itch, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 19:03, 9 replies)

Cards
Here's a brilliant one if you want to freak someone out. We did this to a guy at university. We'll call him Matt (not his real name) for the purposes of this tale.

For this, you need a deck of cards. A Svengali deck - these are the decks of cards used by stage magicians. They have a certain property - about half the cards are ordinary ones, mixed suit and number. The other half are slightly different. Firstly, they are *all* the same card - in our case it was the ten of hearts. Secondly, the identical cards are slightly shorter. Not enough to be visually noticeable, only about 1.5mm. This means that when you have the cards one way up and flick through them, they all appear different, but turn the deck upside down and do the same, they all appear identical. Because each time, your finger catches on the taller normal cards.

We did a seance. Atmosphere with incense, candles and a couple of nice alcoholic drinks, to increase the gullibility. Began it by asking the spirits "Should you ever want to give us a sign... please give us this card". And 'randomly' picked out the ten of hearts.

Each member in turn asked "Do you want to speak to me?". A random card was dealt, and shuffled back into the pack once it had been seen, two tens of hearts would give the game away. And when it got to Matt, he got the Ten of Hearts. Clearly the spirit wanted to speak to him. He was slightly creeped out, but went along with it. And he started asking the spirit some yes/no questions. And every time it was a yes, he got the ten of hearts. We played it up, all looking nervous. Three of us were saying things like "No, this is weird, let's stop it". And the other three were saying "We can't stop now!".

One of us started asking the questions instead of Matt, who was looking a little white and shaky. He'd stopped talking, poor guy. She got the ten of hearts for all the yes answers, and random cards for the no answers. Give her credit, she played the role magnificently, shaking a bit and stuttering. And then she dropped the bomb...

"Is one of us going to die soon?"

Ten of hearts. Return it to the pack.

"Today?"

Ten of hearts. Return it to the pack.

"Who?"

Card dealt to everyone. Matt gets the ten. He looks like he's going to piss himself.

"How?"

And on cue, the lightswitch was flicked, and we all screamed. Someone grabbed Matt's ankle.

It took a good minute to calm him down after that. We showed him the cards - all of them. The output of vile language was something to behold before he started laughing.
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:53, 1 reply)

Somewhat on topic...
I've tossed a couple of ghost stories of my own into the Off-Topic board. They can be found here and here. Constructive critique is always welcome, of course. However, I'll add that they're both pretty old and date from when I first started really trying to write.

EDIT: and here.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:51, 3 replies)

I think I have a super power
The car and the caravan had been packed up the night before, and so it was extremely early in the morning that I was awakened from my slumber to be bundelled into the car. Day light streamed through my curtains and I remember thinking that I had never been up so early before, and that the world looked weirdly deserted at 4am. And so it was that a 7 year old me set off for a field in Scotland, where I would have to endure two weeks with no electricity and noone for company but my parents.

The drive to the camp site was excruciating. The sun beat down on the car relentlessly, and the warm sweat filled summer air was inescapable. It was at this point I suddenly started to feel really ill. I could feel my bowels loosening. I knew I was about to shit myself, but at the same time knew I was about to be sick. It was truely awful. In desperation I pleaded with my father to pull over, but at the time we were on a stretch of motorway with no hard shoulder, and as a result he dismissed my request, telling me that he'd pull over at the next service station.

At this point I remember feeling a combination of total desperation, and immense anger at not being listened to. I bellowed at him "STOP THE CAR!"... and the car stopped. Not because of anything my father had done, but because it had suffered a complete electrical shut down. Everything in the car stopped working and we were left rolling along in a car with no power. My dad managed to role it into the newly reformed hard shoulder, and right there on the side of the motorway I promptly shat and sicked my guts out.

That event was quickly put down to coincidence and forgotten about, but then two years later something similar happened again.

I was watching the television, and had been looking forward to watching a show all day. I can't remember for the life of me what it was now, but just as it came on my mother came in the room with the vaccuum cleaner. Unable to hear what was going on due to the noise, and unable to see what was going on due to her standing right infront of me, I asked her to get out. She didn't, and again I remember feeling desperation at not being able to see the eagerly awaited programme, and anger at her not doing what I'd asked her to do. I bellowed at her to stop cleaning, and immediately the vaccuum cleaner stopped working, never to run again.

So my supernatural ability appears to be triggered by desperation and anger, and is to break which ever electrical device is necessary to get what I want.
( Furness, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:35, 1 reply)

Didnt think i had anything to add as usual
Then i remembered this, its a genuine derek akorah christmas card, as proudly sported by my freind who did some work on production for his live show.



I guess Sam takes the piss when hes out shopping, 'Derek!! That sequin jacket, you must buy it!'

'Whats that sam? Piss off eh, not after last time.. I sent that fucking card to everyone.'

Bah
(Ahoyhoy, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:22, 1 reply)

Not so much supernatural as coincidental...
Number one: sitting getting stoned in my front room quite a few years ago, in the days before DVD players; we had an old VCR that, when the tape had been paused for a while, would click off and the channel that the recorder was set to would then appear on the TV. This happened. I looked up. To see my Dad staring straight out at me from the screen. My Dad who lived 5,000 miles away in Cape Town and whom I hadn't seen in three years...

Turns out a friend of my parent's had been given a Video Camera as part of the BBC's 'Video Nation' project, and had decided to film her arrival in South Africa (where my parents were meeting her at the airport). They were only on screen for a few seconds, and if the video had not clicked off at that precise time, and on that precise channel, I would not have sat there for about seven hours going 'Whooooah...' to myself over and over again...

Number two: a friend of mine was at her friend's house (someone I have never met), consoling him after his Mum had died. He was going through some old photos and showed her one from a few year's previously, at a restaurant in Bath (where he's from) where his family had celebrated his Mum's birthday. My friend looked sympathetically at it for a few moments, before shrieking 'Fuck! I know them!' and pointed to me and my boyfriend, who were randomly sitting in the background enjoying a meal. I have only ever spent one day of my life in Bath, and this just happened to be a moment from this day. I really wanted to see it, but she said she 'didn't feel it was appropriate' to ask him for a picture of his dead Mum. Wus.
(MrsP, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:03, Reply)

Shop haunting
When he was a bit younger, my brother got a part time job at a fishmonger's. Really unpleasant work - gutting fish, throwing away the guts and making them look presentable for the customers. The owner of the shop used to pay well though, purely because the job sucked and that was the only way he'd get someone to stay there long enough. Fish gutting and scaling is an art, and you need practice in order to stay good at it.

Now, having spent a bit too much on beer one week, brother dear was needing some overtime pay. And stayed late for three nights in a row, catching up on fish gutting. Nothing happened on the first two nights. On the third night, so I'm told, it was creepy. It was summer, but the inside of the shop was cold. Not just the fish storage or the counter but the whole shop. This wasn't solved even by turning the heating on.

He kept hearing whispers. Fragments of words in the background, always coming from the shop front. Every time he went out there, no-one was there. Obviously, after a while you'd get a bit creeped out.

After finishing up, he heard the whisper one last time, saying something like "hello?". He went out to check... and saw something there. A thing, in a black robe, transparent. Like the stereotypical image you have of Death. But stinking of fish.

It stuck a finger out at him and said in a loud clear voice.

"I'VE COME FOR YOUR SOLE"

(I am so so sorry)
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 18:00, 6 replies)