I grew up in the south in the late 70’s and early 80’s. My grandmother lived on a cotton farm in SC, and my cousin and I would go visit her during the summer. We’d help out on the farm, but during the heat of the day we’d go swimming in the river to cool off. Our favorite spot was fairly isolated, so we never really saw anyone else, but there was an old dirt road that ran from the gravel road back to an abandoned farmhouse in the woods.
My cousin and I were in the river when we saw a cloud of dust in the distance. We thought maybe our uncle was coming to take us back to the farm, but we always swam for an hour or so after lunch, and he never drove the tractor to come get us. We’d heard stories about some backwoods family who’d gone all Deliverance on some kids a few summers ago, but we figured it had to just be our uncle trying to freak us out. Regardless, we snuck up to the river bank so we could see the dirt road, but we’d still be hidden in the trees.
We saw a ratty Oldsmobile Delta 88 with blacked out windows creeping down the dirt road. The car didn’t belong to anyone we knew. I only remember the make and model because I knew it was the Evil Dead car…and because of what happened next. After it passed by our hiding spot, we noticed it didn’t have a license plate. It drove another 30 yards or so and then stopped. A black garbage bag flew out of the passenger window and into the field. It was about the size of a football. Then the car made a slow and methodical 3 point turn, taking great pains not to let the tires venture too far into the cotton field. It made its way back the direction it came, until it disappeared out of sight.
My cousin and I had remained silent throughout the event, and with the car gone we looked at each other. I wish we would have just ignored it. I wish we would have headed back to farm. I wish we would have told our uncle or our grandmother what we had seen and had them come investigate. But we were 13. Curiosity was killing us.
We had to look in that bag.
As we left our hiding place and headed down the road, we looked around nervously, hoping the Delt wouldn’t show up again. As we got close to the drop zone, we could see blood on some of the cotton directly above the bag’s resting place. We looked at each other one last time, and then we opened the bag.
There, in the bottom of the bag, wrapped in a bloody washcloth, was a tiny baby girl. She looked like she might have just been asleep, but she wasn’t. The image of her lying there, naked, bloody, and discarded, has haunted me ever since.
Something along these same lines happened to me when I was kid, but no one was ever found in my basement. It was my first time staying home alone while my whole family was out at my brother’s ballgame (I was 13 I think). Anyways, I’m on the phone with a friend of mine feeling so grown up when someone beeps in on the other line. I tell her I’ll be right back, and click over lines. Then the creepiest voice I have ever heard says, “Hello, little girl, I’m the man in your basement!”
Honestly, I laughed it off and just hung up thinking it was a prank call. I was a pretty confident little thing, and my neighborhood was pretty safe so I figured someone was just messing with me, knowing it was my first time alone. They beeped in again, so I clicked over and heard, “DON’T YOU F-ING HAND UP ON ME YOU LITTLE, B*@#!” and the lights started flickering and there was banging under my feet. I KNOW it sounds crazy, but my dog started freaking out and my cat ran away, so I assure you I wasn’t imagining a thing. Our basement was actually just an area connected to the garage, it wasn’t finished. I heard what sounded like footsteps coming up the garage steps to get into our kitchen, and I threw stuff in front of the door and hearing yelling and what not.
I kept trying to hang up and call the cops, but every time I tried to, he was still on the phone. My friend told her parents what was happening, and they ran to the neighbors house to call the police for me. I sat petrified with a broken rifle, a butcher knife, and a baseball bat behind my front door because it’s the only place in the house downstairs that couldn’t be seen from a window, crying. Eventually I clicked over to hear a police dispatcher on the phone and stayed on the line with her until the police got to my house. There was no sign of forced entry, though we had a broken window pane on our outside garage door that had been messed up for months prior and my guess is he used that to get in.
The police assumed I was just a paranoid girl, and they were going to leave me home alone after they gave an all clear. Fortunately a family friend had been driving by and saw the cops there and stopped to see if everything was okay. He gave me a ride to the school where my family was. They were skeptical that anything had happened, but we did get a security system not too much longer after that, and my parents both got cell phones too. This was ’94 I think so cell phones weren’t super popular yet.
After that happened, I swear there was someone stalking me for years. I would leave my apartment locked and bolted and come back to find appliances on (hair dryer, stove), heat on in the middle of the summer. I lived in 4 different places, and would get strange phone calls at everyone despite being unlisted. Cars would randomly be parked down the road from a house and speed up and slam on the brakes as I would run inside. I’d hear loud bangs outside when I lived out in the country. Nothing has happened since I’ve been in my current house and married, but I am still super paranoid all the time.
i was visiting my dad in portland as his job required a temporary relocation from michigan. my mother, brother, and myself took 10 days hitting spots all over oregon and washington state. we ended up at multnomah falls, a popular state park and tourist attraction.
when we flew back to michigan, he was going through his camera while he listened to the news, and heard that someone had died at the falls that day. it’s not uncommon for suicides to happen in places like the falls, but as he was scrolling through the pictures, he was curious at what time the suicide occurred, because my dad had one of those cameras that time-stamped every photo.
The news reported the time of the body’s discovery as my dad fell onto a picture timestamped at 3 minutes prior to that time. At the top of the falls, in my family photo, there stands a man at the edge minutes from jumping to his death.
I used to work night shift Security on a college campus. 11PM-7AM, usually by myself. If I was lucky I’d have a work-study student officer with me until 2.
The campus had been around in one form or another since the Revolutionary War. Started as a wood fort, then stone, then finally a concrete fortress with dozens of brick buildings until the end of WWII, when they decommissioned the fort and turned it into a college.
There’s one building on campus that used to be an officer’s quarters, a really fancy, rather upscale three story house. The place has all the classic ghost stories: Lady in white, shadows moving on their own, footsteps, etc. I never believed them.
Until I experienced them.
My first experience in there I was still on second shift, during the day. It was maybe 4pm; I remember the sun was still out. It was also in the 80s outside. I was crossing the main lobby, a large room in front of the double staircase, when I realized something.
It was suddenly way too quiet, like the air was heavy and pressing down on me. I stopped walking for some reason. Then it got cold. Really cold, it must have dropped about twenty degrees. Needless to say, I booked it before I heard or saw anything. I’ve seen horror movies, fuck this!
Another experience with this place: Screaming. I was escorting a couple of new officers to show them how to lock the building.
We were standing in the lobby (everything seems to be focused there…) talking to the last guy in the building. Four of us, standing in a group, when all but one of us heard it.
Shuffling. Like something being dragged in short spurts across the floor directly above us.
scrunch scrunch SCRUNCH *AIEEEeeeeee!!!*
A woman screamed! But there was nobody up there! I wanted to check it out, but the female officer I was next to was too creeped out… cough
The Child Laughing:
It must have been a few months after the scream incident. I hadn’t gone through there much since then. I was escorting another new guy, and had just finished telling him the story about the scream.
We were standing next to the back door (once again, this room was directly connected to the lobby, with a rather large arch connecting them instead of a door). As we started walking into the lobby, a familiar feeling crept over me.
It was quiet… and heavy…
That’s when we heard it. I’m pretty sure I heard the pitter-patter of little footsteps, but we both heard it.
A little girl. Giggling. On the floor above us.
The building was empty and already locked up; We were doing second checks. There was no way somebody else was in there, the previous patrols would have found them.
We looked at each other… “WELP.” Booked it out the door.
The woman in black heels,
This one is the last thing I experienced in that building. In fact, it’s the only thing I saw outright.
I was working alone that night. There were still two staff members in the building; one in the basement, one at the front desk. As I was locking the doors, they were finishing their tasks and getting ready to leave.
I double checked the building, turned off some lights, and started crossing the lobby when I looked up the staircase. The staircase runs parallel to the lobby, it goes up half a floor to the landing then the rest of the way in a switchback setup (like this, but with another set of stairs on the other side of the landing too).
There was a woman up there on the second floor! All I could see was the bottom of a black skirt, her legs, and black heels. Walking from the right to left.
She was wearing heels, but there was no sound. And even though she was walking at a regular pace, I blinked… and she was gone.
TL;DR: I didn’t believe in ghosts until I became a Security officer on the night shift. I’ve experienced some shit, and most of it with witnesses.
Then there’s the stuff you really wouldn’t believe, where there was nobody with me to confirm it (once again, night shift without coworkers). Like the face in the bushes. Or the shadow of a soldier on top of the old fort. But I’ll keep those stories for another day.