My dad died in a motorcycle accident a few years ago and after he died weird shit started happening at my dorm when I got back. The clock would fall off the wall and change time, batteries would seperate themselves from remotes and bangs and knocks were regular. But the weirdest thing that happened was when I was back home from college and I took a shower, got dressed, and was headed back into the bathroom to finish getting ready and the mirror was just clearing off the steam and lo and behold I see smear marks faintly that looks like lettering. So I tip the mirror cause its one of those triple pane medicine cabinet mirrors, and I see ‘Hey’ spelled out in his handwriting with the elven I symbol that was in The Lord of the rings that my dad would put EVERYWHERE. This was probably 6+ months after he passed and I have no idea where it came from since it was only me and my mom in the house and I know she wouldn’t do that. I have a picture of it I will try to find. The crazy part is like a week before that I had broke open a glow stick and it splashed on the mirror, but the writing was UNDER the splashes and none were smeared or touched. Still to this day cannot explain how it happened. We actually took the entire mirror off the wall so it wasn’t ruined.
Found the photo! http://imgur.com/1A1koY2
the writing to the right was my brother’s attempt of communicating back, didn’t work.
Not me but my dad. When he was younger, he used to see a woman in a white nightdress holding a candelabra walking along the hallway at his old house. No one ever believed him but he thought it was his grandmother.
Fast forward 20+ years and he’s talking to someone he works with. This girl says she used to see a woman in a white nightdress holding a candelabra in her old house. My dad asks where she used to live and it was his old house.
I was in 7th grade and we’d just moved in to a “mill town” house: one of the houses built close buy a dam and textile mill that used to house the families of mill workers. The upstairs area always gave me an eerie feeling, but I shrugged it off as the discomfort of living in a new place.
From the beginning I had trouble sleeping, and was jolted awake in the middle of the night repeatedly for no apparent reason. Then, I started hearing the thumping. It started as occasional, soft thumps, seemingly coming from the attic. I had my dad check it out to ease my mind, but he found no explanation. Fast forward a few weeks, the occasional knocking was becoming louder and I continued to wake up in the middle of the night. One night I was jolted awake again, but this time I heard a loud BANG accompanied by the sound of breaking plastic.
I looked to my window across the room, and the blinds had been completely torn and were in disarray. My door was closed, the windows were closed, and the house was locked up tight. I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life. I made it downstairs pretty quickly and the sound woke my parents, so they went upstairs to check it out. They found no cause or explanation.
I slept on the couch downstairs until we moved shortly afterwards. An update to the original: my parents still live in a neighborhood not far from the house, and I’ve noticed that it never keeps an occupant for too long. Also, I never experienced anything similar until this year. I live in an apartment with three other people, and on occasions on which one of us has been home alone around 2 am, we’ve heard knocking sounds as if someone is at the door. In my roommate’s experience, the knocking quit when she answered the front door. In my experience, the knocking stopped when I turned the lights on. It’s pretty eerie.
About ten years ago I was walking one night with my sister. We were passing a familiar point on the road when suddenly we both found ourselves about 200 meters back the way we had just come, approaching the familiar point for the second time. She turned to me and said “what just happened?” We both experienced exactly the same thing – like we had just been pulled back twenty seconds in time – and neither of us could explain it. No spooky g-g-ghosts, but a lasting feeling of something deeply unnatural having happened.
When my mom was a young girl growing up in Vietnam she had this weird dream about being in a darkened church. Everyone was talking in hushed tones, but it was English so she didn’t understand what was going on. But she remembered certain details, like the stained glass windows and the baptismal font. She told her parents, but they were kinda dismissive. They just told her it was a weird dream.
A few years later she was forced to flee South Vietnam because of the Vietnam war. Her family relocated to Florida, and they started their life over. About 10 years later she went to the local Catholic Church for her younger sister’s confirmation. And suddenly she realized it was the same church she had dreamed of as a child. The same darkened church, the same stained glass, the same baptismal font. She talked to her parents again and they remembered her having the dream and describing the place exactly.
My Mom always bought snowglobes for my grandma, when my grandma passed away my mom took them back to our house. My mom put them all up on the shelves that go around the entire living room. A few weeks had passed and my mom found a video that she wanted my brothers and I to watch because it reminded her of our grandma. We all sat down to watch it and of course near the end of the movie our mom was crying. Right when the movie ends all of the snowglobes went off at the same time. The figurines didnt move on any of them, just the music.
We all huddled together of course because we’re scared as fuck and my mom suddenly said, “mom?” And all of the music stopped and them room became extremely cold. My mom suddenly felt really uncomfortable and had all of us run and get into the car and she drove us to our god mothers house. She cried for hours until she got a call from our dad saying he’d be home in a few minutes and should head back. When we all got back inside it was warm again, but all of the snowglobes were shattered on the ground except for 1, the one that was my grandmas favorite.
In my bedroom in the house I rent, weird shit happens all the time. At 2:30 each night there’s loud bangs that come from my closet. Sometimes I hear whispering by my head as I’m in bed, but the thing that creeps me out the most is feeling pressure on the edge of my bed like someone just sat down.
I lost my grandfather several years ago. He was the first of my grandparents to die, and the rest sort of fell like dominoes behind him. I was out of town when he passed – he had been in the hospital a while (stable), so it was very unexpected. My father called me early in the morning and told me “come home. papa’s gone.”
I drove home a complete mess. Wiped tears away and stood strong for my dad, helped with the arrangements, supported everyone as best I could.
Not long after, my grandmother’s Alzheimers got much worse – and she followed him into death. The night before she died, she looked at the ceiling and smiled so big, saying “Jesus and [grandfather’s name]. Theyre here for me.” She passed quietly with family present, and then the rest of us were called in to mourn and assemble as a family.
All that passed without incident. A couple of years later – my (maternal) great grandmother, a true diamond, fell and broke her hip. She was closing in on 100, and ultimately made up her mind to just let go. We understood, and took turns sitting with her until it was time. The last time I saw her, she told me that she was ready to go and imparted her last words on me. I leaned into her with a hug, and asked her for a favor:
“When you get home, will you tell Papa Im sorry I wasnt there?”
She just smiled, nodded, and winked at me. We cried a little and I went home – she passed that night, about 3 in the morning.
Fast forward to a little over a year or so – the email I sent my parents telling them about this is dated 2/19/12 – there is a local convention here that normally has ghosthunter panels and the like. This year, a former TAPS team member and some other ghost hunter types held a ‘campfire stories’ sort of panel – with people contributing their own stories, much like this thread. I sat there listening, it was all pretty neat. The panel was uneventful. It ended, and I lingered around for a while.
I was chatting with one of them, who gave me a copy of their book, as people milled about leaving – and a heavyset guy who had been sitting on the panel earlier came up to me and said “I need to tell you something. I was going to leave, but I cant until I tell you this. I hope it doesnt freak you out.”
So I told him to go ahead and he looked at me and said:
“There is an older gentleman behind you, tall and thin. White button down shirt, khaki slacks, glasses. A little bit of stubble, very strong jaw. He’s been with you since you came in here, and he wants me to tell you “its ok.” He is very insistent and really wanted me to tell you. He wanted you to know it was ok.”
I pulled a photo of him and my grandmother (at a younger age, but still very much themselves) out of my wallet and asked him if thats who he saw. He went white, looked over my shoulder and back to the photo, and said “…yes.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Onions, onions everywhere. He told me that my grandfather was around me often and protected me.
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