#ghosts

My basement has never exactly been a welcoming place. It’s unfurnished; there’s no carpet and the walls consist of boring, exposed bricks. There’s a set of old wooden stairs on one end that creaks whenever anyone uses them. Behind the stairs is a storage area that begins about four or five feet off the ground and goes maybe fifteen feet further back underneath the garage. The place is a dump, as my brother NEVER cleans it, and toys and tools and random things are sprawled out across the entire…

April 23, 2000

I was seven when I moved into that house at Ashbrooke Lane. At least that’s what my parents tell me. My recollection of that time is vague. I have memories of the big tree on our lawn, running round the garden with the boy next door, and I remember sitting on the living room floor playing with my He-Man figures. But my most vivid memories are of the recurring nightmares.

Jack’s head shot up off the pillow and his eyes stared meaninglessly into the infinite darkness, temporarily forgetting where he was. His heart beat fast and he was gasping for air as if he had just finished a marathon. The inexplicable exhaustion overwhelmed him even though he just woke up from a feelingly long sleep.

This is the story of Kelly Tristan, a 23-year-old woman who lived alone in a small house at 2605 Pine Road in the small town of Fairview, Oregon. Her disappearance had gone largely unnoticed until nearby residents started to go missing without a trace. When the police went to investigate the area, all the homes of the missing people were completely empty, as if no one had lived in them for quite a long time. Here is what happened… Sunday October 31, 2004

His face never changes. It's pale white. His eyes are grey, empty. Wide. So fucking wide. I can't take my own eyes off of them and because I can't, I feel them painfully dry up, just as his should. But they don't. He never closes them. He's always, always watching.

The following are transcripted entries from the journal of a Soldier that didn't survive the trip home from a deployment in Iraq. Content was provided via the victim's relatives. This might be disturbing for some people to see. Proceed with caution. - 17-MAY-2008 Fort Huachuca, Arizona -

I won’t say I was excited to be there. Excited is the wrong word to use when visiting such a dark piece of history, a place where so many souls passed. I had been granted unprecedented access to the camps where the Nazis had committed horrible atrocities. As a historian, I was excited, but as a human being, I felt an unexpected lump of dread mixed with the vague feeling of disgust.

Today is the first day of my new job as a teacher at the high school I once graduated from. Other than the fact at how damn early I had to get up, I was 100% ecstatic and ambitious towards what may happen on my first day back there.. 5:30 AM came all too quickly. I was in and out of the shower, dressed and. Ready, coffee in hand by 5:55 I hastily locked up my apartment and made my way to my car. I fumbled around a little in the darkness while trying to get into my car, but I eventually got it.

It was a dark, and stormy night when I write this journal, stating the horrific things I have experience just the other day..

Based on personal hallucinations.

Since around 1999, I’ve lived across the street from an old sawmill. It’s sort of assumed that the family who still own and operate the mill have owned the hundred or so acres it sits on since the beginning of time. The owner’s sons, now into their 30’s, have always sort of been “wild” boys. They like old muscle cars, dirt bikes, fireworks, things like that. They even built part of the largely-unused land behind the sawmill proper into a motocross track, just building up the dirt to make ramps,…

Annabelle was the focus of a case that famed paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren took part in during the early 1970s, and is highlighted in the book The Demonologist. It has been stated that this is one of the most unusual cases of a possessed object on record.

I haven't been sleeping much anymore. My two room apartment has a window right next to my bed. I’ve started to notice something odd about the people going by. Have you ever seen how video game characters don’t seem to walk? They just glide forward while doing a walking animation, like a reverse moonwalk. That’s what they do, they don’t tip forward with each step, and they keep their torsos completely straight and legs moving beneath them while drifting past my window.

It had been a long, tiring day at work. It was quiet as I waited alone for the train. It was a bit after midnight, and so dark that I could only see the square foot around me that the small light illuminated. Fortunately, I wasn’t stuck waiting long for the train. Eagerly, I ran in the second the doors opened.

“Anna! Wake up! My angel is here!” “What?” I eased one eye open until I was squinting at my brother. I would have opened them farther, except I couldn’t. He was shining a damn flashlight in my face. I shooed my little brother away that night, barely even bothering to look. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

Being a devout fan of Creepypasta’s true story section, I felt compelled to share my story with other users. While it is nice to provide all of you with a chilling, and entertaining story, keep in mind I have a much greater goal in mind.

It was a cold, rainy day in December. There was less than a week until we got out of school for winter break. Usually my teachers don't give us work before a break, but my bastard of a History teacher decided he'd assign us a 2000-word report due the day before we got out. I knew I wasn't going to be there then; I was going up to the mountains in North Carolina to spend Christmas and New Years' in Lenoir with some old friends I hadn't seen since I moved.

It is said that in the times of the Romans, there was a mighty general who was abandoned by his cowardly men in the midst of a great battle. In death, the general swore vengeance on those who had abandoned him. He was granted this when a dark goddess allowed him to return to the land of the living as a vengeful spirit. His sole purpose was to get revenge on those who had wronged him.

On June 4th, 1983, my high school was one of many that took us to Disneyland for Grad Night. If you’ve ever been to Disneyland on Grad Night, you know how much fun – and how crazy – it can be. The park stays open extra late, the skippers who drive the Jungle Cruise boats let loose and tell dirty jokes, and there’s plenty of opportunities for people to sneak booze and weed in. Getting a bunch of amped high schoolers in Disneyland is one thing, but with a nightlife and party atmosphere behind it,…