Now this thread is truly appropriate to the next two days.

Ghost stories.

What are some of the ones you know? Are they based in truth?

Here's my contribution:

THE TALE OF THE LOST BRIDE.
MARWELL HALL, OWSLEBURY, HAMPSHIRE.
Marwell Hall, near Winchester, is the scene of the tragic tale of the lost bride. The tradition is that, on her wedding-night, a beautiful young bride challenged her husband and wedding guests to a game of hide-and-seek. She hid herself in an oak chest, but the heavy lid shut her in, and though she was sought high and low, she was never found. Not, that is, till years later, when....
....an old oak chest that had long lain hid,
Was found in the castle, they raised the lid,
And a skeleton form lay mouldering there,
In the bridal wreath of the lady fair.

This is based in truth.

:eek:

ooo

Here's one you CAN tell the kids

Two brothers grew up together, and always loved baseball. They played little league together, then in High School, and both got full rides to College. At college, they sat down and watched a game together and in the middle started talking about what they were going to do with their lives, which led to what they were going to do after they died. The wondered if there was baseball in heaven? The next day, one of the brothers was in a car wreck and died, and thirty years later, the other brother thought he heard something in the attic of his house like the crack of a bat. He went down to investigate and there was (dun dun DUN) his brother! THey started talking, and the dead brother said
"Guess what?"
"What?!"
"There IS baseball in heaven! But I have bad news..."
"What's the bad news?"
"It's your turn to pitch tomorrow."

The end. (Yes, I know it's not scary.)

Ok, now that we've read a NOT scary one ;):), let's hear some scary ones.

Originally posted by Redfield
Ok, now that we've read a NOT scary one ;):), let's hear some scary ones.

Well, here's one that scared me...because it happened to me.

About, oh, 18 years ago, I was privileged to meet a British comedian who used to be quite famous. He lived in Palm Springs part of the year for health reasons (chronic asthma, I think).

Anyway, I was part of a fan club for his radio show, and this gent invited me and a couple of other fans over to his place. He was a very nice guy, very hospitable, friendly. (Very sweet...he kissed my hand and told me I looked like "an English rose".)

His wife served us this marvelous lunch, and afterwards, he regaled us with stories of his past. Some of it was reminiscences of the son he lost in a plane crash. He was very much into spiritism...went to mediums to contact the spirit of his dead son.

He also gave us stories of one of his fellow radio show actors...a very famous actor, who by that time had passed away. As he spoke, he continually talked about the man's own spiritist leanings, spoke fondly of the fellow...then stopped, smiled, raised a finger and said, "Do you feel it, my dear friends? He is with us now."

I felt something, all right. The room had gone stark cold. I mean cold...during the autumn in Palm Springs. (Desert it is, but it rarely gets as cold as all that.) My friends marveled at what they "felt" from that presence in the room. But me...I was totally creeped out. It did not feel like a "friendly" spirit. I'm not sure what it "felt" like. I felt nothing but the coldness, the absence of warmth, as though the entity, unseen, had drained all the energy out of the room.

In retrospect...I do not believe it was the "ghost" of the dearly departed. I was silent on the entire ride home, it disturbed me so much.

(Might seem like a minor thing with you...but for me, it was really disconcerting...and you did ask me to share a story, now, didn't you? **g**)

Theres a place in Pacific Palisades, you really have to work to get there, its like just past a really rich naighboorhood, and like close to some religios camp. and down a really long set of concrete stairs, but once you get down to the level of the path, its a short walk. The whole time I was there I just had this creepy feeling, theres this old DWP thing, I really can't desribe it anyother way. But it has tones of graffity in it, and painting of pentagrams and othe such stuff, and when I was looking at one graffity covered wall, the paint sort of murged to create the form of a hooded woman. Further up the path is like a burned up house, and over grown paths that my pansy friend was to wussy to explore, I've wanted to go back, but he doesn't want to, and I don't really remember how to get there.