What's the freakiest ghost story you've ever been told or heard of?

A good friend of mine lived in the upper level of a house in Detroit for a few years.
She had told me that her dog used to just stare at “nothing” and growl,especially in her bedroom.She just dismissed it as her dog hearing something outside until she felt that“nothing” hold her down by her thighs on her bed.
She then contacted a psychic who told her to go through a convoluted process with candles and ending with asking this “nothing” to go awaaaaaay.
Well,the next time she felt this thing,she got mad,and started swearing at it to go away.It didn’t work and she kept getting bothered by it,the dog was always on edge and the ceiling fan would come on for no reason.
She went back to the psychic,told her how she handled it,and the psychic said she should’ve asked it nicely! LOL!
The next time it happened,she did ask nicely and it didn’t bother her anymore in the bedroom,that is.
She said that when she went into the basement,she could feel “something” with her every time she went down there.
She has since moved….and her dog ran away.

A high friend told us that her mother has been followed all of her life by “The Man in Black”. The whole family (both parents and the two daughters) claimed to have caught glimpses of him as well. Supposedly, he has turned lights on or off and leaves knives and other sharp objects around. One time, the friend said that she went out to her locked car and found a hatchet on the driver’s seat.

The Man in Black will occasionally sit on their legs when they are in bed. The friend’s younger sister invited a friend to spend the night, and the girl said that she, too, woke up to the sensation that someone was sitting on her legs.

The family eventually moved again, and we lost touch with our friend. I’d love to know if the ghost/spirit ever stopped haunting her mother, and if they still believe that he existed.

@Pied_Pfeffer I just peed my pants! XD

Dang…I did it again. Freaking typos. The friend wasn’t high….she was a high school friend. I’m going to call on Auggie for 30 lashes from her whip.

Supposedly true:

In Detroit, there is a house known as the Cole-Adams House. It was built sometime in the 50s and its backstory is unknown. In the 60’s, a family moved in and the father started sleeping in the back room of the house because he worked strange hours. Almost every night, he would be awakened to see the figure of a rotting corpse of a woman wearing a fur coat. He would also smell the stench of rotting flesh.

In 1962, the grandmother came over to stay and reported hearing a pounding coming from behind the closet door in the back room.

A family friend came to visit some time later and was horrified to find a woman standing in the doorway of the back room with her back to him, accompanied by the smell of rotting flesh. As he approached her, the lights in the house went out and the trapdoor that lead to the crawlspace in the basement started rapping up and down and a horrible wailing sound came from the back room.

The father spent one last night in the back room in an effort to scare away the ghost or to establish his dominance over it. She appeared in the night and when he commanded her to leave, her face materialized before his and a hissing sound emanated from her mouth as the room filled up with the rotten flesh smell. The police investigated the house, but found nothing, and the family moved out.

Link. I’ve also read this same story recounted in several books. I am a total skeptic, and I grew up on ghost stories and horror movies, but this story is just incredibly unsettling to me for some reason.

A shiver went up my spine, reading that. 0_0

I have taken @Vunessuh here when she came out visit last time….we didn’t see a thing except lightning bugs flying around in the photos we took….or were they orbs? whaaa haaa haaaaaa….
Boo!

Why, the supposedly true story of 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville, New York, of course.

112 Ocean Avenue was the site of a gruesome family murder where Ronnie DeFeo shot and killed the rest of his family as they slept, claiming demonic forces in the house told him to do it. Some of the things that happened when George and Kathy Lutz moved in the year after the murder are reminiscent of a traditional ghost story: the dog seemed to be hypnotized much of the time, there was an odd presence in the kitchen and a scent of perfume, doors and windows would open for no reason, some rooms were cold all the time, etc.

But what makes this story so interesting is it went far beyond that: A statue of a lion moved from one floor to the other unseen. Later George Lutz tripped over it and it left teeth marks in his leg. Their youngest daughter Missy spoke to an unseen friend, who was a giant pig, who told her about the boy who died in the house. Red eyes were seen outside the livingroom window at night. George would wake up every night at 3:15 A.M. and check on the boathouse for apparently no reason. A secret room was discovered in the basement painted red, smelling of blood, and this was supposedly where the demons and would come and go. Kathy levitated above her bed at night, the boys refused to go in the upstairs playroom, a psychic visited the house and was convinced evil lived there and would not return. Finally, an apparition of a hooded figure terrorized the boys one night and the walls oozed blood and the family abandoned the house in the middle of the night leaving all their belongings.

Supposedly true. Supposedly. The murder did happen, George and Kathy Lutz did abandon their house, and investigators took this photo of the upstairs railing long after the house had been abandoned: http://www.ghosttheory.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/amityville_boy.jpg

There was this woman living in this very cold and dreary place. Her eyes look vacant behind very thick glasses and her lips the color of bright red blood. One day while looking out, she just, from out of nowhere and for no reason at all uttered the words, “I can see Russia from my window…”

Gives me the tingle everytime!

Oh just those I heard when I was out camping as a kid. Scaremongering stuff mostly, you know, stories that were intended to weed out the wimpy kid points at self with a gormless look of resignation on his face.
One I remember in particular involved Sheamus the ghostly sheep. Apparently this wooly bugger would poke it’s face into your tent flap & scream ”lamb chops for dinner!” Long story short, I pretended I had a headache & sloped off home to bed.
A ghost sheep, that could talk, nonsense! Or is it…..?

There was the man who was walking home late at night near his home when he began to hear footsteps behind him quite soft at first but growing more distinct. He looked round but could see nothing. As he walked the footsteps continued keeping the same apparent distance behind him. If he stopped the sound stopped and when he started walking again so did the footsteps. If he walked quickly the steps speeded up, if he slowed down so did they. He reached his home in a hurry unlocked the door and quickly stepped inside. In the familiar warmth of his home it was easy to put the sounds down to his imagination and he forgot about it until the following night.

He now remembered clearly what he had heard and he looked carefully behind him at the empty pavement shining in the streetlights. Then he turned to continue his walk but he hesitated for a moment and listened. There was no sound but that of distant traffic and a stray cat mewling. He began to walk and the sound he dreaded resumed behind him, but this time closer than the previous night.

This is fiction, something I read in a book a while back. I transcribe it years ago to the best of my abilities, for a forum I was participating in. Here we go again! I always loved this lol.

Late

A man is walking down a busy street…it is very hot, he is sweating like mad, and he feels ill…very ill.
He wipes his forehead, and the feel of his clammy and moist hand makes him nearly hurl. Looking at the back of his hand, he notices flakes of skin, some with pale red stains…it came from his forehead.

In fact, his entire body seems very dry, and skin is flaking off…his hair seems to release itself from his scalp merely by running his hand through it.

I’m late…

In his other hand, he clutches a bottle of water. He had just purchased it from a convenience store. He was dying of thirst, and used up the last of his change to get the bottle…the clerk seemed horrified when he saw the man. He offered to call an ambulance and get him to the hospital.
But he dismissed it, saying he was fine, although his voice, trembling and seemingly out of breath betrayed this…now, holding himself up with the use of a telephone booth, he tried to take another swig of the water.

But it was not working…despite the intense heat and his savage thirst, the water simply refused to go down. It made him terribly sick, and it involuntarily sprayed out of his mouth like vomit, falling over his dirty work shirt and tie.

I’m late…gotta call…

At this, people walking by looked at him, frightened, disgusted…some offered help but he pushes them away.

Pressing 0 on the telephone, the man asks the operator to link him to his own phone number.

Gotta let Lisa know I’ll be there…soon. I’m coming.

His wife was not at home. Received by her recorded voice, he felt panic and despair. He had to let her know that he was coming.

The man walks fast, despite feeling like crap…then he starts to run.

He is aching everywhere, he feels that his innards will explode, he feels a wetness in his underwear. Not pleasant. His knees are hurting him terribly, and he sweats…some flecks of skin gets in his eye, and it burns, it is itching.
But he keeps running.

Fuck…I’m gonna fall apart…

Finally, destination.

The cathedral. He made it. Plenty of cars are parked everywhere, he knows that he is not too late, yet. Regaining his breath which only threatens to make him lose consciousness, he advances again in the heat, towards the cathedral doors.

As he enters, the heat is slightly diminished, but his eyes are now in utter pain, so much so that he can barely keep them open. The sunlight through the massive windows blind him, but he can see enough…everyone has turned towards him as he entered. The priest, apparently in the middle of a speech, has stopped. Looking at him.

I’m here…

He notices his wife. Her face is puffy and red…she is crying. Everyone looks, but nobody says anything to him. Nobody advances towards him.

He walks in the aisle, closer to the priest. He does not look back. Walks and walks.

Someone, an old man he thinks, closes the doors of the cathedral which he had not attended to after making his entrance.

“Must have been the wind!” informs the man closing the doors.

The people in the cathedral turn back towards the priest. With a small smile to the audience, he begins his speech anew.

Nobody pays any attention to the man. Like he became invisible.

But he made it.

As he nears the end of the aisle, he sees a great coffin, with the cover open.

He climbs in, lays within and puts his arms by his sides, closing his eyes.

He made it.

Sorry, I got no real ghost stories from people, at least nothing that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit, so this will have to do. XD

The Gate
a true story from Libertyville, IL.

A long time ago, there was an old school house. the princaple was known to be a little odd but nothing the students could’t handle. Then one day, the princaple changed. He seemed a little crazy. Some people said drunk or drugs. Others said.. possessed. He locked the doors. He took a butchers knife. Walked down the halls of his small only like 3 or more classroom school. And with his knife he would kill the students. But no just kill, cut their heads off..
The reason the storys called the gate? He took the heads and put them on the black metal sharp posts of a cemetary gate. Blood dripped down the gate. Then he kills himself.
Today, the heads are of course gone. But, it is said you can still see the drips of blood that now look like part of the fence. And that you can hear and see the crazy princaple, all bloody like when he killed himself. The scariest part? It is also said that on certain nights the heads re apear and you can hear the screams and crys of students and he shouts and laughs of the mad princaple.