#ghosts

There are stories that cling to the edges of reality, rumors whispered in bars by old sailors with trembling hands and distant eyes. Stories of ships that drift into the harbor with no crew, no signs of struggle... just eerie silence. But until last week, I thought they were just that... stories.

Jeanette moved closer to the glass, and besides a bony hand, she also saw the terrifying face of an old woman with a scarred face and 4 eyeballs. Jeanette was completely paralyzed, not knowing what to do. ​"Who are you and what do you want from me?" ​"You are the one who summoned me along with your friends during the evening séance, remember that, Darling?" ​"Siltani, come here" — and so I came, from the Land of the Whispering Bones and Shadows, here I am, and from now on I will give you no…

I was on a business trip about a year ago and I had to drive from Denver to LA. It was a long drive and I was growing tired of the road, so I stopped at the Holiday Inn hotel that was nearby. I walked up to the desk and rung the bell. Just seconds later, a man came out from the back room. "Hello sir, my name is John Shelby," the man said, "How can I assist you?" "I'm looking for a room," I replied, "Are there any available?"

After cleaning the shop, packing the last of my gear, and loading it onto my pickup. I closed up and locked the door. I made sure to hang a sign on the door that read, “Gone Fishing.” I was all set to leave. I took another look at the place, knowing I wouldn’t see it for at least a week. I loved coming here, to work, and to serve my customers, but I was headed on a long-overdue vacation.

My stomach rumbled as we approached the edge of the woods. It was nearly midday, but I hadn't eaten in hours. Supply troubles and nerves had left me with little food and next to no appetite. A combination that was less than ideal heading into my first taste of combat.

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.

Mike yawned. He wasn't use to the late nights yet. It was only his second night shift, as far as I'm aware, and by the time he had crossed the room to grab his sixth or seventh drink of coffee from the machine just outside the office door, I was started to get irritated by him. He was a lot younger than me, about 20 years old, and the age gap annoyed me since he acted like a child most of the time. My usual co-worker for the night shift was on a vacation with our boss, since the two knew each…

Everyone has that feeling some time in their life. Some able to explain the phenomenon, and others simply cannot. That unknown feeling of someone, or something, watching you. That experience where either dread or curiosity can get the best of you.

I'm a surgeon. Now, I've seen my fair share of strange medical events, But one event that I saw still haunts me to this day.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Rain fogged up the window. A soft crackle sounded from the fireplace. It was supposed to be a cold, comfortable night. But I couldn’t help the chill that ran down my spine. My day was spent with powdery mountains and snowboarding and hot chocolate. It was supposed to be a day for me to forget. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Shadows risen from the darkness... Moonless Night follows the shadows like a plague. Silver bells, Darkness shadows, and Endless stars... Into the Darkness is where it starts... Into the Darkness, opal stars and golden moons arise. Followed by screams in the dead of night... Lovely and Afraid with haunted eyes of emerald shade... Would you walk alone into the Darkness of night? To find yourself and the endless night? To meet him in the middle of the night...

"'Tis midnight, let us hit this," He said, after procuring the previously mentioned drugs. Wielding the ever-convenient Ziplock bag, he started to make his way into the room, abruptly falling down without the slightest grace as his already-altered motor skills abandoned his legs. He hit the floor rather loudly.

In Minneapolis Minnesota a long abandoned hospital was under reconstruction. The hospital, St Anne's Mercy, was original founded in 1802. The hospital housed the quarantined patients suffering from illnesses such Yellow Fever, smallpox and leprosy. It also housed the mentally ill and abandoned of all ages for many years.

BOOM! Kaitlyn bolted up in bed in a cold sweat. She nearly fell out in a panic, and then managed to right herself. After catching her breath, she managed to calm down and glanced at the clock. 12:30 AM. Fucking great. She knew that she always took at least an hour and a half to get to sleep, and she had to be to work at 4:30.

A scream rang out. As I traced the auditory source of evident horror, I was led to my daughters room. I looked around quickly as I caught my breath from the reacting sprint, but nothing seemed out of place other than that tearing of a child under the bed. As I glimpsed at what might have caused any of this I noticed her new doll, limbs contorted, across the room. Going over to the bed to console her, "Honey what's wrong?"

Very seldom does it happen that a young person enters a nursing home. Mostly we assume that nursing homes are for the elderly. Those who are too fragile or infirm to be without twenty-four hour care, those with a broken hip that won’t heal or with too many illnesses to count. A few who will recover and the rest left here as a last resort. But occasionally a child inhabits a room at a nursing home. Here is the tale of one such child, and the impression she left behind.

The dust was whirling behind their car as they sped down the gravel road. Dust and dirt swirled behind them like a dark cloud gaining on the small car. David glanced at the dash board to see how fast he was driving and it showed sixty-eight. He wasn’t sure why he was driving so fast; they weren’t exactly in a hurry. He and his friend, Ryan, were heading across the state after fall break to their school. They were both freshmen at Crestwood University.

In the shadowy, pine-filled countryside of Greece, there’s an old legend known to the older locals but half forgotten and unknown to the few young people living there. The legend centres around an eerie stone statue of a little girl named Magda, hidden deep in the local dark pine forest.

No one knows that my affluent aunt bequeathed me her favorite thing in the world, the beach house she bought many years ago on the Florida Panhandle. I’ve been renting it out for years actually, though I haven’t visited it since I was a kid. She knew how much I loved her beach house and how overly giddy and thankful I was every time she took me on one of her vacations. My guess is that’s why she gave it to me; I may have been the only one in the family to love it as much as she did. I think she…

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.