Post by Duchess DeMonica on Feb 22, 2014 22:41:50 GMT -6
Well....I had heard that My grandma's house was haunted but I didn't believe it so one day I was taking a bath and as I was shampooing My hair,I was using that green prell shampoo that came in a tube well.... I heard this breathing sound so at first I didn't think much of it because I thought I was hearing Myself breathing then I held My breath and still heard it,now I believe that house is haunted too
Bleh. I'll just copy it here. Dan Karcher posted this on Facebook.
A funny thing, no - actually a terrifying thing, happened on the way to nowhere last night... Forty nine years now, and this is very much new territory for me. Those who know me well know I have worked within, alongside, under and over a rather long list of "paranormal" material over the years. But at the end of the day, do I actually believe in the paranormal? Ghosts, the unknown, things that go bump in the night, or linger beyond the doorway or under the bed? No. Does that not mean I've not been spooked from time to time? No, I have been. Have I experienced being "creeped" out now and then? Very much so. When I was a child, having (somehow) seen Vincent Price in "The Pit and the Pendulum" had me never stray to the south east corner of our cellar. It was in that corner a small doorway led to what Dad called the "dungeon" and it frightened the jammies off me. No way would I even attempt to enter the cellar alone as a child, much less the corner where the dungeon lingered. On the 3 shallow steps that led up to the small door lay paint cans, neatly stacked. Even if I could manage the bravery to approach the dungeon, navigating my way over the paint cans as a small child would prove difficult. Nevermind, I'm not going down there as it is. Actually, the dungeon was nothing more than the small crawl space under the sunporch above, and in it contained our red classic flyer sleds we enjoyed every winter. But to a small child, it was a dark, damp abyss of ghosts, goblins and assorted body parts that awaited my mortality. I'm no longer a child anymore. Though I wouldn't mind being so, I could use a few "do-overs" here and there. But that I am not. I am a grown man of 49. I do not believe nor ever have believed in ghosts and evil spirits. Or rather, I have never been exposed to them, hence my jury has long been out on the existence of any such element. That doesn't mean I haven't experienced unexplained fear, or anxiety from a condition, location or situation. Case in point, when developing White Enamel, there were a number of times I felt well out of place. After all, I was deep inside the stairwells and corridors of abandoned asylums for quite a time, doing research, shooting still images, recording sound, shooting video, shooting film. And on many occasions I was (hesitant to admit at first) "creeped" out. It's not that I feared "ghosts" or the like. It's hard to do so when so often you're on the crew that is creating the ghosts in the first place. But something about the walls of Overbrook hospital (which plays the character of "Glenfield Asylum") had me perplexed at times, and I chose not to enter too deep into the wards alone. It was simply (again, never admit it, but do so now) the childhood fear in me I brought to adulthood. But that was also because I was in the environment in which the imagination can go off the charts and bounce off the walls of madness. In the "real" world, that imagination remains in a rather, more healthy environment, in my own head. That is to say and assume my head is normal and healthy, and that of course can be challenged also by those who know me well. I know the inner workings of funeral homes, I've worked in some, I know the inner workings of morgues at hospitals, I've done research in many. I live next to an old cemetery where the last burial took place a hundred years ago. Do I fear them? No. Do I assume a ghostly appearance to occur? Absolutely not. Even if there were ghosts, these are the last places you're going to find them. Where's the attachment? The spirits of the former living didn't have an attachment to those places, and they make for lousy social environments in which to do so as it is. Have I wanted to believe in spirits? Absolutely. This past year alone has been heart breaking in want to see my father's image, or to feel his presence, his comfort, his love. When Tom died, when I cleaned and organized his house, I found myself alone by the great wood stove talking aloud to him, in hopes I might get a response from beyond. None of this has happened. For as much as I have willed it, wished it, begged for it, I have felt nothing, seen nothing, heard nothing, from anyone I said goodbye to in the last year. And dammit I am owed something. But even my own imagination isn't strong enough to will the appearance of a lost loved one, lest it be a willful daydream of fantasy. I reside in a very old home. It was built in 1750. It's one of the oldest homes in the county. Built by a man named Luther Calvin, he had a mill in the rear by about a hundred yards or so, hence the town was originally called "Calvin's Mill." The mill is long gone, but this house, my home, remains to this day, perched as it was first built, and warm and comforting as it has ever has been. It it not "creepy." It is not "haunted." It is very old, and there are beams, stonework, wide pumpkin pine floorboards, a great fireplace and more. So when I first purchased it and the cable guy (cable kid actually) came over to install my account, he was often muttering "wow..." when he looked around. When he finished the installation he took yet another look around and again muttered "wow..." He then explained to me that Comcast was his day job, but his other gig was as a "paranormal investigator" and had a team of friends that would love to explore and research my home. I felt bad to say, but I had to be honest and explained to him there were no spirits, I'd never felt a presence in this house other than my kitties running around after hours in want to find the toy they just battered around and likely got caught under a sofa or behind a door. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Yes, very sure. I'm sorry." He gave me his card, and said if I ever changed my mind that I am welcome to call him. It's now 2014. I've lived here for many years now, and the only bump in the night that has occurred has been my shin against the bed post. Followed by a staunch "Dammit, ouch!" However, something occurred just last night that I cannot explain. And it's not that it's a big deal. What makes it a big deal is that it happened at all. Keeping in mind now I have never experienced anything paranormal, extraordinary or unexplained to a point - that it can't be explained. Not in 49 years. Any fear of the unknown in those years has been nothing more then than the fear I created within myself in imagination of the fear of the unknown. You with me here? However, and that said, whatever happened last night was real. Too real, and very real. And again, I remind that it's not actually a big deal. It's not. What makes it a big deal is that it happened at all... Last night, as I was online Skyping a movie with Lisa, we hung out for some time afterwards, just talking, making plans, etc. The house was warm, with the pellet stove roaring out heat at a comfortable 70 degrees in the living room. At one point as we continued to Skype online, I noticed the temperature had cooled a little. I didn't pay it any mind at first, thinking perhaps the temp outside is dropping more and the stove is simply catching up to it. I checked the thermometer on the wall, it said 70 degrees still. Plus the coolness I felt was at my feet. The cold was coming from the cold cellar below no doubt. We continued our online chat, when suddenly the temperature just plunged. As if someone opened the front door and the cold from outside forced its way in like a Jehovah's Witness. It suddenly had to be 55, maybe 60 at best. I quickly stood up, checked the thermometer on the wall, it remained at 70. Bearing in mind, Lisa is watching this happen in real time from Idaho on Skype. I sit back down on the sofa, curse a little, not knowing WHY the room got suddenly cold. The doors are closed, the windows are shut. And then suddenly I see a figure walk right past in front of my eyes, clear as fucking day. But I can't make out who it is, it is either someone walking past the french doors outside on the deck or it's a reflection in the doors' windows of someone walking past behind me from the sofa. A physical person could not have done so outside, the snow is a good 2 1/2 to 3 feet high, and they were walking past as though on the deck's surface, and without obstruction from the deck chairs, which are also piled with at least 3 feet of snow out there. And it couldn't have been a physical person inside the room... well, because there was no one inside here, obviously. I think I'd know if someone was walking past me in my own living room, and considering how small the room is, you can feel the presence of someone else if they're there beside you. Plus, there would be a shadow and ambient noise, and in addition to that I would assume Lisa would have seen the actual apparition herself. Lisa only saw my reactions to what was happening, not what was occurring itself. I genuinely became frightened, right there in front of Lisa, watching my reactions from her viewpoint on Skype. She tried, and somewhat succeeded, in calming me down of course. But not without my rants of "what the fuck is that?! What the fuck is happening?!" I even became a bit "snippy" and irritable with Lisa as she tried to calm me. When I am in total fear, I also tend to get angry (a common defense mechanism). So this was no passive fear, this was a full-on bring-it-on fear. Within minutes, maybe 3, maybe 4, the living room's temperature returned to complete normal. And the thermometer never budged all the while. I do not know what happened. I do not believe in ghosts or spirits as we're taught in Hollywood. But I do know that for some unknown reason the temperature suddenly dropped 20 degrees and returned to normal as quickly, and that I did in fact see a figure walk directly past me, as plain as I can see what I am typing. What, or who the figure was I cannot tell. Again, it was either on the outside of my french doors, which is impossible, or was a reflection in the doors' window from inside this living room. Which is also impossible. What is also impossible is my actually imagining this. Not with Lisa here with me all the while as it occurred in real time. All I know is that I do not understand what happened. And that it created a fear I have not known since a child. Not in that I did not know what happened, rather - in that I do not understand what happened.
Should pale death with arrow dread Make the ocean caves our bed Though no eye of love might see Where that shrouded grave shall be Thou! who hear'st the surges roll Deign to save the suppliant soul
Post by blackmoon699 on Dec 3, 2015 4:52:43 GMT -6
I once witnessed the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me in that I was around the torn down ruins of a red house that was so haunted no one would ever try to live in it again and I noticed a little brown dog barking and whining at no one in sight that I could see and this dog became so agitated he was literally trying to dig a hole in the ground to just get away from whatever was frightening him! I have never seen anything like this before in my life or even since to this very day but you can bloody well believe I will never forget it!!!!
Post by BlairWitchProjectFan1 on Apr 10, 2016 16:37:53 GMT -6
Back in 2005 my mom bought a santa claus statue toy that dances when you plug it in and my uncle from new orleans was upstairs and he said that the thing was unplugged and it was dancing and he fell down the stairs in shock! That was so funny, I wish I got that on camera.
I've been a fan of The Blair Witch Project since 2013, and I always will be.
(There's nothing wrong or stupid about The Blair Witch Project. It's a special film that requires special understanding).