<!--QuoteBegin-Trevelyan+Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Trevelyan @ Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Should have opened the attic door. F$#* the ghosts... the worst they can do is kill you. and a hella lot of things in this world can kill you.
<!--emo&::gorge::--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/pudgy.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='pudgy.gif' /><!--endemo--> <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd--> Technically, Ghosts <i>can't</i> kill you, but I agree, Open the damned door!
<!--QuoteBegin-cshank4+Apr 15 2005, 08:13 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (cshank4 @ Apr 15 2005, 08:13 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> <!--QuoteBegin-Trevelyan+Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Trevelyan @ Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Should have opened the attic door. F$#* the ghosts... the worst they can do is kill you. and a hella lot of things in this world can kill you.
<!--emo&::gorge::--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/pudgy.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='pudgy.gif' /><!--endemo--> <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd--> Technically, Ghosts <i>can't</i> kill you, but I agree, Open the damned door! <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd--> technically? We're talking about parinormal beings from beyond the dead. Please explain how they can't kill you.
<!--QuoteBegin-neko?+Apr 15 2005, 08:32 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (neko? @ Apr 15 2005, 08:32 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Because they exist in a different plane of existence. <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd--> How can they manipulate items/walls/make noises/GIVE CUTS TO THE WOMAN IN THE STORY?
BadKarmaThe Advanced Literature monsters burned my house and gave me a 7Join Date: 2002-11-12Member: 8260Members
edited April 2005
<!--QuoteBegin-Trevelyan+Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Trevelyan @ Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Should have opened the attic door. F$#* the ghosts... the worst they can do is kill you. and a hella lot of things in this world can kill you.
<!--emo&::gorge::--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/pudgy.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='pudgy.gif' /><!--endemo--> <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd--> That's the idea isnt it? That's what it really boils down to in the end, death. Plain old everyday <i>expiration</i>. Most natural thing in the world, cept life. Well, that's the idea withe something as ordinary as a lunatic with a knife. But when your dealing with things supernatural, as what was taking place in that house, or that cave, it's the sheer madness before death that makes things scary. Even worse, whatever it is might not kill you at all. A lifetime spent in a very personal hell of insanity.
Well, there <i>are</i> myths about how dreams are actually our minds crossing over into another plane of existance, that could explain how a ghost/spirit could effect our physical bodies, sorta like the matrix, whatever happens to the mind happens to the body.
Anyhow, the caver was an AWESOME story, it deserves to be an indie movie.
[WHO]ThemYou can call me DaveJoin Date: 2002-12-11Member: 10593Members, Constellation
The caver story was weak. So obviously overextremely fake that I can taste the special sauce.
The problem with that story was the home-based hallucinations. When you pick a scary theme, you should really stick with it and not throw in random crap that doesn't even make sense in the context of your storyline.
<!--QuoteBegin-BadKarma+Apr 15 2005, 09:32 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (BadKarma @ Apr 15 2005, 09:32 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> <!--QuoteBegin-Trevelyan+Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Trevelyan @ Apr 15 2005, 07:06 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Should have opened the attic door. F$#* the ghosts... the worst they can do is kill you. and a hella lot of things in this world can kill you.
<!--emo&::gorge::--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/pudgy.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='pudgy.gif' /><!--endemo--> <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd--> That's the idea isnt it? That's what it really boils down to in the end, death. Plain old everyday <i>expiration</i>. Most natural thing in the world, cept life. Well, that's the idea withe something as ordinary as a lunatic with a knife. But when your dealing with things supernatural, as what was taking place in that house, or that cave, it's the sheer madness before death that makes things scary. Even worse, whatever it is might not kill you at all. A lifetime spent in a very personal hell of insanity. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd--> Exactly... Don't spend your little time on this planet scared. IMO everything else should be scared, scared of YOU. Get a weapon and attack at full force with no regard for your safety. Bezerkers would do this in front of heavily armored knights (the tank of that era). Strip all their armor off and cut themselves. The fear would drive groups of heavily armed men back, even if they outnumbered the single bezerker. Some people know this... they feed off the fear others produce. Its sad but in this existance you have to think this way or be pushed aside like the rest of the sheep. You see... everyone is afraid, just some people focus on making others afraid then being scared themselves.
If you die... well at least you tried, at least you had the power within to face your fears.
LikuI, am the Somberlain.Join Date: 2003-01-10Member: 12128Members
<!--QuoteBegin-CplDavis+Apr 14 2005, 09:07 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (CplDavis @ Apr 14 2005, 09:07 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> <!--QuoteBegin--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> </td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin-->Apparently a man had “spider-walked” out of the mirror. She said his arms and legs were bent at all the wrong angles, and he moved fast and jerky like in the movies when they mess with the film speed.<!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd-->
That girl in the Grudge if I remember. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd--> She just drags herself down the stairs and through the attic.
<a href='http://users.adelphia.net/~djlink128/WomanOfMyDreams.jpg' target='_blank'>Regan McNeil</a>, spider-walks as she's walking on her hands and feet with her back towards the ground... head upside down. Or in The Exorcist: The Beginning, at the end when the girl crawls up the wall her limbs bend in awkward ways if I remember correctly. But that movie sucked.
Great read, so was the Caver, but I didn't find Caver as creepy. Maybe because I read it a while ago.
Does anyone else love creepy things like pictures and stories such as this, but know they're a **** like me?
<!--QuoteBegin-T h e m+Apr 16 2005, 03:16 AM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (T h e m @ Apr 16 2005, 03:16 AM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> The caver story was weak. So obviously overextremely fake that I can taste the special sauce.
The problem with that story was the home-based hallucinations. When you pick a scary theme, you should really stick with it and not throw in random crap that doesn't even make sense in the context of your storyline. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd--> And they could have at least photoshopped a picture of the rune onto a boulder. That would be way better than 'I left the camera and the pictures were bad'.
Speaking of pictures, remember the "I found this camera in the woods the other day." thread? I must have posted that in 3 other forums, creeping people out for at least 5 pages until some idiot belched out he saw it on some other forum and its a fake, ruining the fun.
The Caver was a fun read, but it did make little sense. I liked the mystery surrounding what was hidden in the cave, but the things mentioned in the story didn't seem to mesh.
Why <b>was</b> there a hidden cave? What was the reason for the symbol? If this was a place of worship, as the symbol seemed to indicate, why was the cave so small? Why was there a hidden entrance in the rock? Why was there a breeze? Why was there a rumbling? Why were there screams?
All of these things seemed to lead to the conclusion that there was some sort of bizarre sacrifice ritual being carried out by an unknown underground tribe of some kind.
But then the strange things come into play, changing the focus of the story. The people get pursued into their homes. The main character feels pursued near the end of the story, but doesn't get attacked, even though he was being followed all the way home, and even though they were certain they could hear something trying to get them through the hole earlier. The circular rock could move. Both cavers could hear a scream, despite it being nearly impossible to hear (especially over the hand tools). Both heard rumbling when the rock was sealing the entrance of the additional cave, but no rumbling when it was open. Their cameras wouldn't work.
What does all that mean? It didn't lend much credibility to the story when I was noticing plot holes while I was going through it. It still was a creepy story, and I enjoyed letting my imaginations patch the holes in the story. Still, it would have been much better if more thought had been put into the plot elements.
As for the story of the house, I thought it was rather well done, especially in the detail between the interpersonal communications. I still thought it was a tad short, considering the attention to detail, and how little it actually got into why the house was around, but I thought it was interesting (and better than the Caver) regardless.
<!--QuoteBegin-Quantum Moose+Apr 16 2005, 05:00 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Quantum Moose @ Apr 16 2005, 05:00 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Speaking of pictures, remember the "I found this camera in the woods the other day." thread? I must have posted that in 3 other forums, creeping people out for at least 5 pages until some idiot belched out he saw it on some other forum and its a fake, ruining the fun.
Oh well. <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd--> Yeah, I remember it. That was a great one.
LikuI, am the Somberlain.Join Date: 2003-01-10Member: 12128Members
<!--QuoteBegin-Quantum Moose+Apr 16 2005, 12:13 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Quantum Moose @ Apr 16 2005, 12:13 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Im sure I could dig the pictures up in anyones interested. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd--> I have few of them, because they actually looked nice. Anyone have the links to the originals?
Where you around for the original thread? Have you noticed any oddities in the pictures?
For me it was just picking through the pictures when I first saw them, looking at each briefly for a few seconds. Then people started pointing things out. After seeing that i went through them again and found many weird things. It was crazy to suddenly see all the freaky figures, and how subtle some where.
[WHO]ThemYou can call me DaveJoin Date: 2002-12-11Member: 10593Members, Constellation
<!--QuoteBegin-Quantum Moose+Apr 16 2005, 03:45 PM--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Quantum Moose @ Apr 16 2005, 03:45 PM)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin--> Where you around for the original thread? Have you noticed any oddities in the pictures? <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd--> I saw a picture of a dude sitting on the top of the tower, that's about it.
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky2.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' /> *Above picture* Someone pointed those out as feet...
My grandmothers house is a restored and remodeled farmhouse. The foundation, and most of the downstairs, is unchanged from when the orignal house was built around 150 years ago. All of the materials, the lumber, iron nails, thick door frames, are all the same. For a better mental picture of the house, the downstairs is very similar to the house in the 1990 return of the living dead. The difference is the hidden basement, and the previously sealed room.
Without going into boring detail, a hidden basement was discovered at my grandparents house about 40 years ago, and there was a strangely shaped room down there. No one knew what the room was for, until a local psychic looked at the room and immediately told my grandparents to stay away from it, and to move the antique furniture out of the room.
The psychic, or as the town called her "witch," left the house in a panic repeatedly mumbling "bad people," and "cursed." My grandparents didn't do as she said, and only moved out the furniture when my father and mother bought a house.
Family and friends always thought the old witch was just a crazy woman, until the problems started. Now, no relative on either side of the family will accept the furniture, and some can't even bring themselves to look at it when they're at my parents house.
No one goes in the basement. No one can figure out why the basement has smelled like rotting meat ever since the furniture was moved. There has never been an explaination why the door to the basement will unlock itself, and open. The fresh flowers grandma used to arrange downstairs will always wilt in a day, and everyone who has stayed and been in the bathroom has heard at least once someone knock on the basement door and quietly ask "hello?"
Like my parents house. . .except not as worse.
This is the background story before the serious stuff.
The death bed/ The silent mirror.
The worst part of the furniture that was moved was an old wooden bed that was painted in a faded, pea soup green, and the matching mirror cabinet. Everyone hated these pieces of furniture after the move.
The bed frame had a huge, plain headboard, and there were pillars in the four corners of the bed that ended in a dull, arrowhead shape. Because of the design of the bed, the mattress would rest just below a thick frame that connected all the pillars. When you laid down in the sunken bed surrouned by its high, wooden walls, you always felt like the bed was swallowing you. About 150 years ago, an unknown relative of the family built this bed, and no parts had been changed since. Every time you rolled on the bed it would creak loudly, moaning under the stress it has had to endure over the decades.
The matching mirror was a huge and flawless despite its age, and the ornate frame for the piece showed no signs of wear. The mirror was attached above cabnets, so an average size man could only see his reflection above his waist. In the room that had both pieces, the mirror faced the bed. The headboard of the bed faced the door, and the mirror was on the same side as the door. If you wanted to see your reflection in the mirror, you had to walk into the room and stand infront of the bed.
The reason the bed is called the death bed is because family members would always sleep on the bed when they were extremely sick, or going to die. Almost all of my dads family had died on that bed, and by coincidence, a few of my mothers family passed aways as well there. My first experience with the death bed was when I was a child, and I had a bad case of strep throat. I had to sleep on the bed.
I had fallen asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, but my fever was too strong, and I woke up in pain around midnight. As I lay in the bed, struggling against the pain and facing the wall on the left side of the bed, I heard the bed creak. Not only did I hear the bed creak, but I could feel it move.
I lay motionless until the creak happened again, and I felt someone roll over closer to me. Thinking it may be my mother who might have come in to keep an eye on me since I was sick, I rolled over to see if she was asleep. Someone else was there.
A woman, probably in her thirties, was facing me. She was staring right at me with her eyes and mouth wide open. She looked like she was going to start crying and wail out in pain, but she just stared. Surrounding her eyes and mouth were dark blue circles, and her straight black hair was thrown covered part of her face. Her cheeks were sunk in, and her mouth kept dropping more and more open like the sorrow was becoming too much. I turned away to try and grap a hold of the side bed and pull myself out, and when I looked back she was no longer there. I crawled back into the bed, put the sheets over my head, and didn't move for the rest of the night.
I told my mother what I saw in the morning, and she didn't seem too concerned until I mentioned how sad and hurt the woman looked. My mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table with me, stood up, went to the bedroom where my father was getting ready for work, and starting talking to him. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but he came out soon after and said "don't go in that room again, and you're not to sleep in there again, I don't care how sick you are." I asked if it was because of the woman and he said yes, and then I asked if i'm going to be in trouble and he said "your great aunt is dead, she won't bother you and she was nice woman."
She is the only young woman to die on the bed. She died of some type of asphixiation (sp?) that the farmland doctors couldn't figure out. Apparently she stopped getting enough oxygen being pumped in her blood, and she died being virtually paralyzed and unable to call out for hours.
The good poltergeist stuff is comming up; this is the calm stuff.
More death bed/mirror
Although this particular mirror (there are three total) never conjured the big problems like the other mirrors, it did something strange always. The room with the bed and mirror had blinds that keep all the light out of the room when closed, and at night, there was no light at all. The room was always pitch black except the mirror, which would glow. It wouldn't project light or illuminate anything, but it would glow brightly despite no light being directed to it at all. If you went to look in the mirror, you could see a clear reflection of yourself, but NOTHING else in the room. It was like you existed in a void.
Death bed silent man
My first encounter with the silent man was about two years after the dead woman on the bed. It was during the day, and I was looking through the mirror cabnet draws for an old stapler. I found the stapler, and I as I was looking at it to see if it needed staples (or if it would work), I heard a man clearly say:
"Hi"
He didn't say it in a friendly tone, but more of "I see you" sort of tone. What's worse is I looked up into the mirror and I was alone in the room. I moved as quickly out of the room as I could, and as I did I heard the same voice, but in a growling, angry voice say:
"Get back here"
I didn't, but whatever it was was now angry, and people started to take notice.
Since the room with the bed was at the end of the end of the hall, you could look right in to the living room from the doorway. Also, you could always see me leave my room since. I remember the first time I left my room and froze in fear as I looked into the doorway of the death bed room. There was something like a man, translucent, crouched down like a panther ready to pounce. I stared into the top of the head of the "man" (because the figure was looking down), until I gathered enough courage to run for the living room where my parents were. As I took off, so did it, and it jabbed me in the small of my back, knocking me down. Over the period of a year, this happened a few more times, and I have scars on my lower back the size of fingertips. There are no fingerprints, but there are unusual and consistent ovalish scars.
Also, since my parents room were right next door to the death bed room, the door to my parents room would slam shut. It would only slam shut when someone was trying to enter or leave the room, sometimes hitting one of my parents in the face with the door. My mother was **** one day that the doors would do that and I said it was the ghost in the death bed room. She said she knew, and her and my father could hear something laughing through the walls sometimes.
She closed and bolted the door shut until we moved. Occasionally you would hear something knock lightly on the door and ask "hello" very quietly. When we moved, my parents had the bed and mirror destroyed to take care of the problem. Unfortunately we then decided to keep the old music boxes and the buried mirrors.
On a kinda side note: No one had ever experienced anything bad with the bed, or anything with the angry male ghost until it was moved into the seance room in the farm house basement. People don't go down there anymore because something else also knocks lightly on the closed basement door and asks "hello."
The big stories about the old music boxes and the two mirrors are next.
First the old music boxes.
I hated this ****' things since the first time I saw them. They were about 100 years old, ceramic (mostly), highly decorated with sky and clouds type themes, and the music that came out of them were perfect. All three of them, the two clouds and soaring ballerina (the top had a ballerina that would twirl when the box was wound), were in perfect condition. They just didn't seem right. The people had left these boxes and everything else their daughter had behind. They were angry with her because she commited suicide, and didn't want a reminder of such a bad child. Wow, what a happy family.
We stored everything she used to have in the attic except the boxes (my mom loved them), and we didn't take down this mirror thing she had in her room. Instead of a full-length mirror, she took mirror squares and glued them almost next to each other on a part of the wall. It was like a broken, full-length mirror that faced the bed. Luckily, I got the room with the horrible mirror.
One day, the dog was chasing one of our cats around, bumps into the dresser that had the music boxes on them, and all the boxes fall to the floor and break. There were only two people that were upset that happened: my mother and the daughter.
We were there only one month after that, and it was a nightmare. Our dog suddenly developed over 50 ulcers in her stomach and died. . .in three days. Eventhough there was no smoke, you and everyone around you would start choking and coughing. Air would rush so strongly by your ears sometimes that you couldn't hear the world around you. People would start sleep walking (the only time ever in this house during this period) and leave the house. You would always wake up outside like it was an eviction of a supernatural kind. Then there was her mirror.
She looked very similar to the girl in the ring (no drowing symptoms, evil whitish eyes, or any of that stuff, but she wore a white night dress and has long, dark hair). I remember being in bed and looking at the mirrors, when I saw her for the first time. It was like the mirrors were really one big, broken window, and she was looking through. Just her upper body because she was like peering around through the mirrors at me, and she was angry. Sometimes she would look scared or worried, but most of the time is was pure anger. I hid everytime I saw something like that, except when I was leaving the room. Sometimes I would be walking out and I would look at the mirror at an angle, and I could see her kinda like hiding behind the wall so you couldn't see her if you looked directly at the mirror.
She apparently appeared in some other mirrors in the house, but I didn't see them. New tennets moved in after us, and then quickly moved away. The house had been abandoned for a few years and was recently torn down.
Next are the antique mirros that used to be buried. (Why my mother and father wanted them, I have no idea.)
More about the death bed I forgot
Just about everyone that knows the death bed room remembers the mumbling voices. If you left my room at about 1 a.m. about, or noon which is ood, you could hear about 10 people "talking," but it was more like a whole bunch of mumbling voices. If you got to about two steps from the doorway to the room, they would stop but not all at once. It was like someone said "eveybody quiet," and not everybody did right away.
I had a sleep over, and one of my friends got up to use the bathroom at night. He said when he was comming back that he heard the mumbling in the room that I told him about a while ago. However, he didn't go up to the door, but stood there and tried to listen to what's going on (the angry male ghost hadn't appeared yet, so there was no reason to be scared). Eventually, the voices quickly died down and he left about 5 seconds after it was quiet. As he started to walk to my room, the door to the death bed room closed very slowly, and he says he heard something like a giggle.
When he made it to my room he was so scared he was crying.
The mirrors
There are two mirrors, both wall hanging, both originally from scotland in our house. They are both around 150 to 200 years old and in great condition. About 100 of those years they were buried in the ground by one of my relatives. Before he poisoned himself, he said that "they won't leave me alone. There's too many of them. Just leave me alone!" about why he did what he did (the mirrors). It was his dying wish that they stay buried until we move from the land, and then someone has to destroy them. We had to dig them up around 40 year ago, but the family didn't destroy them.
There was no problem with the mirrors until we hung them on the walls.
Five women on my mothers side of the family (where the mirrors are from) have committed suicide. All five had the brown frame mirror in their room.
Two men have gone mad. Both had the metal frame mirror in their room.
I lived (briefly) in one room with the brown, and the other room with the metal frame, and I know what they faced.
The metal frame mirror:
The metal frame mirror is larger than the brown mirror, and it doesnt have a thick frame. The main reflective part is a rectangle about three feet long and two feet high, and this part is "pushed forward" by curved pieces of metal attached to the main metal frame. Think of a rectangle in a rectangle, and the middle rectangle is being raised upwards by metal bars attached to the larger rectangle. Since the reflective part isn't directly connected to the frame, it feels like it has no border like one of those edgeless swimming pools.
This is the watcher mirror.
I have never seen a mirror be so clear in my entire life. It is absolutely flawless despite the years and rough treatment. Unfortunately you notice things with this mirror.
During the evening, I was getting ready to go out and I was looking in the mirror. I was casting a shadow on the wall behind me and I noticed something strange. If you can imagine your shadow moving its head when you're not moving yours, that's what I got. But it wasn't my shadow really, but something that was hiding in my shadow that kept moving out of my shadow line. I froze for about 20 seconds, and started to move out of the room until I noticed the other shadow's head turn and look in the mirror. I ran out of the room and didn't look back.
Twice before people have seen a human shaped shadow move on its own in the basement of my house.
Also in that mirror I have seen a very faint male-looking head and torso when the lights are off and i'm in bed. The head is looking down and then moves so the ghost is looking at the sky, and then it's gone. If I didn't have such bad experiences when I was a kid, I would crack too at that sort of thing. This mirror always seems to have someone watching you, but it doesn't do anything else.
The other mirror is evil.
I write some more, I just need a drink. I got loads of stories. The baddest one of all, the blood mirror is next.
The blood mirror
I would rather have the death bed than this mirror. Sure, I don't live at home anymore, but the fact that it exists bothers me. It's called the blood mirror because the seal used to keep the back of the mirror to the frame is blood. Blood isn't like glue so were were able to crack the frame off easily (we were going to save the frame and replace the mirror around the first week we had it, but we put everything back together). One of my mothers relatives (the first woman to kill herself) used to do this with cabnet seals and stuff, so we weren't shocked when it happened, but we were spooked.
She tried to put her blood in everything because she was some type of witch, and she was trying to live forever or something. I know that's going to raise questions but we don't really know because there aren't any records of her anymore or any solid information or basis really in witchcraft. She was probably just plain nuts.
Here's a diagram of the upstairs where the mirror is. It will be important later.
There are three types of ghosts on the stairs. The first is the casual walker, who will walk at a calm pace. Even if you stare at the stairs, whatever it is will keep walking. This doesn't happen to often anymore, but it was really cool when it did.
The second is the clumbsy runner. Someone just takes off and kinda trips and stumbles on the stairs on the way up. It's like a kid running. Very rare to happen.
Both all reach the landing on the second floor and walk towars the blood mirror room, past the metal mirror room. That's how I connect the stairs walkers, but I could be wrong.
The third is horrible.
I was asleep one night and I woke up to a loud thud downstairs. I listened as whatever it was ran full speed to the stairs, up the stairs, down the hall, and slammed into the door with the blood mirror in it and kept slamming. . .where I was sleeping. I started shaking because I just woke up and it sounded like some madman was in the house comming for me and I wasn't ready. My dad comes out of his room and yells "what the **** are you doing at. . " and trails off. No one was there in the hallway.
The knocker
The knocker comes in two varieties. The knocking with the death bed room is more of someone making a fist, sticking out his or her index finger, and gently rapping on the door. The first knocker with the mirror is nothing like that. It's more of a full fist, all four knuckles rapping on the door. This one comes once in a while and just knocks on the blood mirror door for about two minutes, sometimes during the day.
"knock knock knock" (quickly but gently) Me: "yeah, what?" "knock knock knock" Me: "yeah?" "Knock knock knock" Me: "what?!" (I go to answer the door) I open the door and there's only dead silence.
The second knocker is a full-fist pounding that shakes the door. This has happened twice.
The first time was 10 seconds of beating on the door at 2 in the morning. I go to the door because I think it's an emergency, and no one is there.
The second time I heard the pounding and didn't get up (this was about six months later). Every ten seconds something would pound on the door and pause for about one minute. Then I heard the doorknob wiggle. Scratching on the door. The doorknob shaking slightly.
Then BAM!! One big hit smacks the door and I hear something run downstairs and into the kitchen, where there is no more noise.
Scratching.
Scratching has been heard on many seperate occasions, from either inside the closet or from behind the mirror. I would have to say from behind the closet is scarier to me because I saw the movie House when I was young, and if you've seen that movie you know that a certain part can leave an impression on a kid.
The scratching is very light, and not in one spot. The scratching will go from low in the closet to high like something trying to figure a way out. If you see the orginal haunting, there is a scene when something is trying to get into a door and it sounds just like this. The pounding on the door wasn't similar, but the scratching is dead on.
Behind the mirror you hear scratching sometimes, only around 1 or five in the morning. Sometimes there is a tapping sound, but mostly scratching.
I got more, but I got to take a break for a sec if that's ok.
Why I hate the blood mirror.
Sure it attracts things that knock on the door and run up the stairs. Yeah there's scratching and tapping from the closet and mirror. When you look at it though, it's just noise. The blood mirror, however, is more than just noise.
It could be any day, at any time, with any one in the room, and then it attacks. Since the mirror has no way to directly hurt you, it makes you hurt yourself. I have been quietly watching tv or talking to friends that are in the same room with me and the blood mirror, and you can feel it come alive.
The room temperature will drop 40, 50, 60 degrees within minutes so you can see your breath. You can't concentrate or focus on what you were doing. Your eyes can't focus on one point, and you're unaware of what you're body is doing. All you can really hear is your heart pounding at a rythmic pace. Suddenly you, and anyone else around, is in a haze. . .a trance.
When you regain focus, you realize you're bleeding.
The most common thing people will do is scratch themselves with their fingers on their left hand on their right arm or upper chest. Without thinking, people will dig huge gashes into their bodies with just their fingers and not know it. Everytime they will look at the mirror when they realize what they just did.
It doesn't happen often, but when it does it's truly frightening. The best example I have is when I brought my now ex-girlfriend to show her the room because I had told her about all the ghosts in my house. When we walked in I said:
"Here's my old room, and there's the mirror."
And as soon as I said that and pointed to the mirror, the temperate began to drop drastically. I went over to some shelves to see how much of my stuff my little brother had taken since I had left, and I took my eyes off her. When I looked back at her she was staring at a wall, with a desperately sorrowful face, and digging into her right arm. I grabbed her, and as I did I must have woke her up out of her trance. She looked scared until she saw the cuts in her arm and screamed. She was out of the house before I could leave the room. As soon as she left, the room instantly got warmer. It wanted her. . .something about her she liked.
The blood mirror still stands today behind an old dresser. My mother always gets crippling arthritic pain whenever she goes to take down the mirror and get rid of it. The pain is so bad she can't even grip silverware. . .until she decides to do something else. I moved the dresser drawer to hide the mirror, to bury it, so it won't bother anyone else. Some day the dresser drawer will be moved and the mirror will reflect the light of day again, and I know it will be even angrier than it was before I hid it. I pity the person that inherits it then.
Thank God for ebay.
Sorry for the crappy joke. Anyways, I need to clarify some earlier stuff I wrote about so i'll do that in another post if you want me too. Also, i've got some other stories, some of which are my friends if you want them. Thanks for all the support so far.
As for why my parents keep these things, I have no idea. My parents are addicted to anything that has been passed down through the family, and their house is now loaded with stuff from both sides. My mother hates the mirrors, but she only wants to take them down and not throw them away because they've been in the family. It's a weird mix of stuff from both sides of my parents families. My father has old, ratty stuff like the old death bed, and my mother has expensive stuff from when her family was rich and lived in a mansion. It's like we have stuff from Night of the Living Dead, and The Haunting all in one place.
My mother has the family opals, which are exquisite pieces of jewelry that only women in the family can wear, not because of tradition, but of some type of super bad luck. She also has these 80+ year old ruby glasses. The glasses aren't made of rubies, but they are a beautiful blood red and flawless. When she inherited them about 10 years ago, she said she had to put them in a sturdy china cabnet or they'll fall and break. That's because every other day you can hear someone run through the dinning room and to the china hutch, where the glasses are.
My dad has this old trunk from Ireland that has the creepiest lamp (that used to be kept in the seance room too) in it, pictures of my Indian (native american) relatives that we no longer know who they are, and some sentimental news clippings from a cousin of ours in Ireland who was with the IRA, but was really a child killer. No one wants this stuff, the trunk used to be in the basement next to the seance room, and it's ugly to boot, but it's old and has stuff from the family.
They just won't get rid of stuff that's old and has been in the family. Destroying the death bed was kinda hard for my dad to do, but WE STILL HAVE PARTS FROM THE MIRROR. All of it is ugly, everyone knows the pieces are cursed or at least haunted, and we don't need any of the pieces at all, but they still keep them. I mean christ, those opals, once put on, cannot be taken off until right before the coffin closes, and you are to be buried in the ground. If you take them off the body earlier, or accept them as a gift while the original wearer is still alive, you will go mad. Apparently that's not enough to call the pieces cursed since it has only happened TWICE in the past 40 years. It also happens 100% of the time too, but that doesn't matter.
I'll take as many pictures as possible while i'm there. It's like sentimental pieces from a haunted mansion all over the place.
About why there are things happening in the basement to our house, I don't know. There are things everywhere in the house, and the basement is no exception. I'll do an outline of the house, and when I get a chicago ghost hunt going, we'll stop by my house for a quick tour.
Basement:
Only thing here is the shadow man and the swinging boxing bag. The shadow man has only been seen twice, and has "charged" everytime he knows you're looking. He doesn't come straight at you, but follows the walls around.
The swinging punching bag was really fun. It happened about every other time anyone was downstairs, and it was really cool. I had a 110 pound leather punching bag attached to the ceiling of the basement. Really simple construction: just a swivle hitch bolted into the ceiling, and a three chains attached to the hitch. You would be sitting downstairs, watching tv or talking to friends, and the chain would start to creak. For a while we thought vibrations somehow moved the bag, until two of us saw how it started. The bag would be perfectly still, then it would move about a foot in one direction, and then swing back. It was creepy because you knew something was moving that bag.
Ground floor:
All you get are the occasional runner, the night light painting, and I guess orbs. Once in a while you see a quick flash of light like a firefly, usually in the spring or fall.
Upstairs:
This is where the mirrors are and the knocking. Sometimes you hear mumbling, something moving papers (and always flipping up the system you have), lots of motion in the mirrors (bathroom and metal frame), and one of our dogs growling at something in the hallway briefly. If you have cat in your room, the cat will wake up sometimes and just stare at the door for a good five minutes, and then sometimes go under the bed. The upstairs is where the fun is.
Oh, and I should mention that our new dog won't go into the dinning room where most of our inherited stuff is. He'll whine and cry if he looks in there, won't come if you're offering him tasty hamburger, and will fight you if you carry him in there. He gets over it, and then one night you hear the china cabnet move in the dinning room, and he freaks out.
Until this thread, I never really thought about all the **** up stuff we have in our house. I knew we had some bad things, but I just realized how much we have there.
Here's a story my dad used to tell:
When he was a boy, his parents lived on a farm. Not the same farm house with the basement, but a different place. For the first years of his life he was farmer, tending the fields and the animals in virtual isolation from the outside world.
When he was eight he got his own room. It was a fairly sized room with dark wood walls, and a thick wood ceiling. The curtains were kinda see-through and cheap, so they would never block the sun, but always make the room look yellow.
The interesting thing about this room was that it was under the attic. The attic didn't cover the whole upstairs, but just his room and the bathroom. It was small and had been sealed since his parents moved in, so no one really cared to use it.
His first night in his own room was exciting to him. He had a hard time going to sleep, and only around midnight or so did he start to get drowsy. As he was drifting to sleep, he heard something from the attic. It wasn't wind or the house settling, but footsteps, all over the attic. He laid quietly as the footsteps slowly marched all around the attic, and eventually stopped over his bed. Thinking the noises had stopped, he tried to close his eyes and rest until tomorrow when he can tell his parents what he heard. Then he heard the scratching.
Slow, rythmic scratching from the attic floor, right above his face. Never changing pace, never getting louder, or quieter. Whatever it was kept scratching for an hour, and then stopped for the night.
He told his dad what he heard, and his dad opened up the nailed wooden planks on the attic door opening in the hallway. When the doorway was open, his father looked around so he could see what kind of animal had been scratching, and where it got in. After an extensive search of the basement, his father could find nothing, and told my dad he was dreaming the whole thing. My father knew better, but seeing the heavy planks get nailed back up over the door made him feel more secure.
That night the same scratching happened again.
And the night after that.
And the night after that.
And for the rest of the week.
His parents noticed that he was pale and wasn't eating, and the became very concerned. My dad couldn't eat or sleep because he was so afraid of what has happening in the attic above his room. His father had enough of this silliness, and went up to the attic, removed the planks, took my father into the attic, and pointed to the space above my fathers room, where there were finger sized grooves in the attic floor.
My father says he always remember being scared out of his mind because he didn't know what was in the attic with them now, but his dad didn't panic. His dad just picked him up, calmly left the attic, sealed the attic door again, moved my fathers stuff out of his room, and sealed the room; all within five minutes. His dad never paniced or acted afraid at all, and after the room was sealed he came downstairs and said to his mother "we're leaving this week. Pack your stuff, we're moving somewhere else, and i'm getting a new job."
Then he moves into the house with the hidden basement, but that's not really his fault I guess.
Could have been B when the main guy was coming back (not likely) or by Joe (he went through first but the main guy hit his head after getting through so he went back, IIRC)
Comments
<span style='font-size:17pt;line-height:100%'>NO!</span>
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I need closure damnit!
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Technically, Ghosts <i>can't</i> kill you, but I agree, Open the damned door!
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Technically, Ghosts <i>can't</i> kill you, but I agree, Open the damned door! <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd-->
technically? We're talking about parinormal beings from beyond the dead. Please explain how they can't kill you.
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How can they manipulate items/walls/make noises/GIVE CUTS TO THE WOMAN IN THE STORY?
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That's the idea isnt it? That's what it really boils down to in the end, death. Plain old everyday <i>expiration</i>. Most natural thing in the world, cept life. Well, that's the idea withe something as ordinary as a lunatic with a knife. But when your dealing with things supernatural, as what was taking place in that house, or that cave, it's the sheer madness before death that makes things scary. Even worse, whatever it is might not kill you at all. A lifetime spent in a very personal hell of insanity.
Anyhow, the caver was an AWESOME story, it deserves to be an indie movie.
The problem with that story was the home-based hallucinations. When you pick a scary theme, you should really stick with it and not throw in random crap that doesn't even make sense in the context of your storyline.
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That's the idea isnt it? That's what it really boils down to in the end, death. Plain old everyday <i>expiration</i>. Most natural thing in the world, cept life. Well, that's the idea withe something as ordinary as a lunatic with a knife. But when your dealing with things supernatural, as what was taking place in that house, or that cave, it's the sheer madness before death that makes things scary. Even worse, whatever it is might not kill you at all. A lifetime spent in a very personal hell of insanity. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd-->
Exactly... Don't spend your little time on this planet scared. IMO everything else should be scared, scared of YOU. Get a weapon and attack at full force with no regard for your safety. Bezerkers would do this in front of heavily armored knights (the tank of that era). Strip all their armor off and cut themselves. The fear would drive groups of heavily armed men back, even if they outnumbered the single bezerker. Some people know this... they feed off the fear others produce. Its sad but in this existance you have to think this way or be pushed aside like the rest of the sheep. You see... everyone is afraid, just some people focus on making others afraid then being scared themselves.
If you die... well at least you tried, at least you had the power within to face your fears.
That girl in the Grudge if I remember. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd-->
She just drags herself down the stairs and through the attic.
<a href='http://users.adelphia.net/~djlink128/WomanOfMyDreams.jpg' target='_blank'>Regan McNeil</a>, spider-walks as she's walking on her hands and feet with her back towards the ground... head upside down. Or in The Exorcist: The Beginning, at the end when the girl crawls up the wall her limbs bend in awkward ways if I remember correctly. But that movie sucked.
Great read, so was the Caver, but I didn't find Caver as creepy. Maybe because I read it a while ago.
Does anyone else love creepy things like pictures and stories such as this, but know they're a **** like me?
The problem with that story was the home-based hallucinations. When you pick a scary theme, you should really stick with it and not throw in random crap that doesn't even make sense in the context of your storyline. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd-->
And they could have at least photoshopped a picture of the rune onto a boulder. That would be way better than 'I left the camera and the pictures were bad'.
Oh well.
Why <b>was</b> there a hidden cave? What was the reason for the symbol? If this was a place of worship, as the symbol seemed to indicate, why was the cave so small? Why was there a hidden entrance in the rock? Why was there a breeze? Why was there a rumbling? Why were there screams?
All of these things seemed to lead to the conclusion that there was some sort of bizarre sacrifice ritual being carried out by an unknown underground tribe of some kind.
But then the strange things come into play, changing the focus of the story. The people get pursued into their homes. The main character feels pursued near the end of the story, but doesn't get attacked, even though he was being followed all the way home, and even though they were certain they could hear something trying to get them through the hole earlier. The circular rock could move. Both cavers could hear a scream, despite it being nearly impossible to hear (especially over the hand tools). Both heard rumbling when the rock was sealing the entrance of the additional cave, but no rumbling when it was open. Their cameras wouldn't work.
What does all that mean? It didn't lend much credibility to the story when I was noticing plot holes while I was going through it. It still was a creepy story, and I enjoyed letting my imaginations patch the holes in the story. Still, it would have been much better if more thought had been put into the plot elements.
As for the story of the house, I thought it was rather well done, especially in the detail between the interpersonal communications. I still thought it was a tad short, considering the attention to detail, and how little it actually got into why the house was around, but I thought it was interesting (and better than the Caver) regardless.
Oh well. <!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd-->
Yeah, I remember it. That was a great one.
People were seeing faces everywhere D:
I have few of them, because they actually looked nice. Anyone have the links to the originals?
All of them I believe.
?
I don't get what's scary here.
For me it was just picking through the pictures when I first saw them, looking at each briefly for a few seconds. Then people started pointing things out. After seeing that i went through them again and found many weird things. It was crazy to suddenly see all the freaky figures, and how subtle some where.
I saw a picture of a dude sitting on the top of the tower, that's about it.
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky2.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
*Above picture* Someone pointed those out as feet...
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky3.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky4.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky5.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky6.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky7.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
<img src='http://mywebpage.netscape.com/Deploro%20Amor/omfgfreaky8.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' />
Im sure theres many more that havnt been spotted.
Enjoy.
: D
__________________________
The sealed, seance room at the old farm house.
My grandmothers house is a restored and remodeled farmhouse. The foundation, and most of the downstairs, is unchanged from when the orignal house was built around 150 years ago. All of the materials, the lumber, iron nails, thick door frames, are all the same. For a better mental picture of the house, the downstairs is very similar to the house in the 1990 return of the living dead. The difference is the hidden basement, and the previously sealed room.
Without going into boring detail, a hidden basement was discovered at my grandparents house about 40 years ago, and there was a strangely shaped room down there. No one knew what the room was for, until a local psychic looked at the room and immediately told my grandparents to stay away from it, and to move the antique furniture out of the room.
The psychic, or as the town called her "witch," left the house in a panic repeatedly mumbling "bad people," and "cursed." My grandparents didn't do as she said, and only moved out the furniture when my father and mother bought a house.
Family and friends always thought the old witch was just a crazy woman, until the problems started. Now, no relative on either side of the family will accept the furniture, and some can't even bring themselves to look at it when they're at my parents house.
No one goes in the basement. No one can figure out why the basement has smelled like rotting meat ever since the furniture was moved. There has never been an explaination why the door to the basement will unlock itself, and open. The fresh flowers grandma used to arrange downstairs will always wilt in a day, and everyone who has stayed and been in the bathroom has heard at least once someone knock on the basement door and quietly ask "hello?"
Like my parents house. . .except not as worse.
This is the background story before the serious stuff.
The death bed/ The silent mirror.
The worst part of the furniture that was moved was an old wooden bed that was painted in a faded, pea soup green, and the matching mirror cabinet. Everyone hated these pieces of furniture after the move.
The bed frame had a huge, plain headboard, and there were pillars in the four corners of the bed that ended in a dull, arrowhead shape. Because of the design of the bed, the mattress would rest just below a thick frame that connected all the pillars. When you laid down in the sunken bed surrouned by its high, wooden walls, you always felt like the bed was swallowing you. About 150 years ago, an unknown relative of the family built this bed, and no parts had been changed since. Every time you rolled on the bed it would creak loudly, moaning under the stress it has had to endure over the decades.
The matching mirror was a huge and flawless despite its age, and the ornate frame for the piece showed no signs of wear. The mirror was attached above cabnets, so an average size man could only see his reflection above his waist. In the room that had both pieces, the mirror faced the bed. The headboard of the bed faced the door, and the mirror was on the same side as the door. If you wanted to see your reflection in the mirror, you had to walk into the room and stand infront of the bed.
The reason the bed is called the death bed is because family members would always sleep on the bed when they were extremely sick, or going to die. Almost all of my dads family had died on that bed, and by coincidence, a few of my mothers family passed aways as well there. My first experience with the death bed was when I was a child, and I had a bad case of strep throat. I had to sleep on the bed.
I had fallen asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, but my fever was too strong, and I woke up in pain around midnight. As I lay in the bed, struggling against the pain and facing the wall on the left side of the bed, I heard the bed creak. Not only did I hear the bed creak, but I could feel it move.
I lay motionless until the creak happened again, and I felt someone roll over closer to me. Thinking it may be my mother who might have come in to keep an eye on me since I was sick, I rolled over to see if she was asleep. Someone else was there.
A woman, probably in her thirties, was facing me. She was staring right at me with her eyes and mouth wide open. She looked like she was going to start crying and wail out in pain, but she just stared. Surrounding her eyes and mouth were dark blue circles, and her straight black hair was thrown covered part of her face. Her cheeks were sunk in, and her mouth kept dropping more and more open like the sorrow was becoming too much. I turned away to try and grap a hold of the side bed and pull myself out, and when I looked back she was no longer there. I crawled back into the bed, put the sheets over my head, and didn't move for the rest of the night.
I told my mother what I saw in the morning, and she didn't seem too concerned until I mentioned how sad and hurt the woman looked. My mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table with me, stood up, went to the bedroom where my father was getting ready for work, and starting talking to him. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but he came out soon after and said "don't go in that room again, and you're not to sleep in there again, I don't care how sick you are." I asked if it was because of the woman and he said yes, and then I asked if i'm going to be in trouble and he said "your great aunt is dead, she won't bother you and she was nice woman."
She is the only young woman to die on the bed. She died of some type of asphixiation (sp?) that the farmland doctors couldn't figure out. Apparently she stopped getting enough oxygen being pumped in her blood, and she died being virtually paralyzed and unable to call out for hours.
The good poltergeist stuff is comming up; this is the calm stuff.
More death bed/mirror
Although this particular mirror (there are three total) never conjured the big problems like the other mirrors, it did something strange always. The room with the bed and mirror had blinds that keep all the light out of the room when closed, and at night, there was no light at all. The room was always pitch black except the mirror, which would glow. It wouldn't project light or illuminate anything, but it would glow brightly despite no light being directed to it at all. If you went to look in the mirror, you could see a clear reflection of yourself, but NOTHING else in the room. It was like you existed in a void.
Death bed silent man
My first encounter with the silent man was about two years after the dead woman on the bed. It was during the day, and I was looking through the mirror cabnet draws for an old stapler. I found the stapler, and I as I was looking at it to see if it needed staples (or if it would work), I heard a man clearly say:
"Hi"
He didn't say it in a friendly tone, but more of "I see you" sort of tone. What's worse is I looked up into the mirror and I was alone in the room. I moved as quickly out of the room as I could, and as I did I heard the same voice, but in a growling, angry voice say:
"Get back here"
I didn't, but whatever it was was now angry, and people started to take notice.
Since the room with the bed was at the end of the end of the hall, you could look right in to the living room from the doorway. Also, you could always see me leave my room since. I remember the first time I left my room and froze in fear as I looked into the doorway of the death bed room. There was something like a man, translucent, crouched down like a panther ready to pounce. I stared into the top of the head of the "man" (because the figure was looking down), until I gathered enough courage to run for the living room where my parents were. As I took off, so did it, and it jabbed me in the small of my back, knocking me down. Over the period of a year, this happened a few more times, and I have scars on my lower back the size of fingertips. There are no fingerprints, but there are unusual and consistent ovalish scars.
Also, since my parents room were right next door to the death bed room, the door to my parents room would slam shut. It would only slam shut when someone was trying to enter or leave the room, sometimes hitting one of my parents in the face with the door. My mother was **** one day that the doors would do that and I said it was the ghost in the death bed room. She said she knew, and her and my father could hear something laughing through the walls sometimes.
She closed and bolted the door shut until we moved. Occasionally you would hear something knock lightly on the door and ask "hello" very quietly. When we moved, my parents had the bed and mirror destroyed to take care of the problem. Unfortunately we then decided to keep the old music boxes and the buried mirrors.
On a kinda side note: No one had ever experienced anything bad with the bed, or anything with the angry male ghost until it was moved into the seance room in the farm house basement. People don't go down there anymore because something else also knocks lightly on the closed basement door and asks "hello."
The big stories about the old music boxes and the two mirrors are next.
First the old music boxes.
I hated this ****' things since the first time I saw them. They were about 100 years old, ceramic (mostly), highly decorated with sky and clouds type themes, and the music that came out of them were perfect. All three of them, the two clouds and soaring ballerina (the top had a ballerina that would twirl when the box was wound), were in perfect condition. They just didn't seem right. The people had left these boxes and everything else their daughter had behind. They were angry with her because she commited suicide, and didn't want a reminder of such a bad child. Wow, what a happy family.
We stored everything she used to have in the attic except the boxes (my mom loved them), and we didn't take down this mirror thing she had in her room. Instead of a full-length mirror, she took mirror squares and glued them almost next to each other on a part of the wall. It was like a broken, full-length mirror that faced the bed. Luckily, I got the room with the horrible mirror.
One day, the dog was chasing one of our cats around, bumps into the dresser that had the music boxes on them, and all the boxes fall to the floor and break. There were only two people that were upset that happened: my mother and the daughter.
We were there only one month after that, and it was a nightmare. Our dog suddenly developed over 50 ulcers in her stomach and died. . .in three days. Eventhough there was no smoke, you and everyone around you would start choking and coughing. Air would rush so strongly by your ears sometimes that you couldn't hear the world around you. People would start sleep walking (the only time ever in this house during this period) and leave the house. You would always wake up outside like it was an eviction of a supernatural kind. Then there was her mirror.
She looked very similar to the girl in the ring (no drowing symptoms, evil whitish eyes, or any of that stuff, but she wore a white night dress and has long, dark hair). I remember being in bed and looking at the mirrors, when I saw her for the first time. It was like the mirrors were really one big, broken window, and she was looking through. Just her upper body because she was like peering around through the mirrors at me, and she was angry. Sometimes she would look scared or worried, but most of the time is was pure anger. I hid everytime I saw something like that, except when I was leaving the room. Sometimes I would be walking out and I would look at the mirror at an angle, and I could see her kinda like hiding behind the wall so you couldn't see her if you looked directly at the mirror.
She apparently appeared in some other mirrors in the house, but I didn't see them. New tennets moved in after us, and then quickly moved away. The house had been abandoned for a few years and was recently torn down.
Next are the antique mirros that used to be buried. (Why my mother and father wanted them, I have no idea.)
More about the death bed I forgot
Just about everyone that knows the death bed room remembers the mumbling voices. If you left my room at about 1 a.m. about, or noon which is ood, you could hear about 10 people "talking," but it was more like a whole bunch of mumbling voices. If you got to about two steps from the doorway to the room, they would stop but not all at once. It was like someone said "eveybody quiet," and not everybody did right away.
I had a sleep over, and one of my friends got up to use the bathroom at night. He said when he was comming back that he heard the mumbling in the room that I told him about a while ago. However, he didn't go up to the door, but stood there and tried to listen to what's going on (the angry male ghost hadn't appeared yet, so there was no reason to be scared). Eventually, the voices quickly died down and he left about 5 seconds after it was quiet. As he started to walk to my room, the door to the death bed room closed very slowly, and he says he heard something like a giggle.
When he made it to my room he was so scared he was crying.
The mirrors
There are two mirrors, both wall hanging, both originally from scotland in our house. They are both around 150 to 200 years old and in great condition. About 100 of those years they were buried in the ground by one of my relatives. Before he poisoned himself, he said that "they won't leave me alone. There's too many of them. Just leave me alone!" about why he did what he did (the mirrors). It was his dying wish that they stay buried until we move from the land, and then someone has to destroy them. We had to dig them up around 40 year ago, but the family didn't destroy them.
There was no problem with the mirrors until we hung them on the walls.
Five women on my mothers side of the family (where the mirrors are from) have committed suicide. All five had the brown frame mirror in their room.
Two men have gone mad. Both had the metal frame mirror in their room.
I lived (briefly) in one room with the brown, and the other room with the metal frame, and I know what they faced.
The metal frame mirror:
The metal frame mirror is larger than the brown mirror, and it doesnt have a thick frame. The main reflective part is a rectangle about three feet long and two feet high, and this part is "pushed forward" by curved pieces of metal attached to the main metal frame. Think of a rectangle in a rectangle, and the middle rectangle is being raised upwards by metal bars attached to the larger rectangle. Since the reflective part isn't directly connected to the frame, it feels like it has no border like one of those edgeless swimming pools.
This is the watcher mirror.
I have never seen a mirror be so clear in my entire life. It is absolutely flawless despite the years and rough treatment. Unfortunately you notice things with this mirror.
During the evening, I was getting ready to go out and I was looking in the mirror. I was casting a shadow on the wall behind me and I noticed something strange. If you can imagine your shadow moving its head when you're not moving yours, that's what I got. But it wasn't my shadow really, but something that was hiding in my shadow that kept moving out of my shadow line. I froze for about 20 seconds, and started to move out of the room until I noticed the other shadow's head turn and look in the mirror. I ran out of the room and didn't look back.
Twice before people have seen a human shaped shadow move on its own in the basement of my house.
Also in that mirror I have seen a very faint male-looking head and torso when the lights are off and i'm in bed. The head is looking down and then moves so the ghost is looking at the sky, and then it's gone. If I didn't have such bad experiences when I was a kid, I would crack too at that sort of thing. This mirror always seems to have someone watching you, but it doesn't do anything else.
The other mirror is evil.
I write some more, I just need a drink. I got loads of stories. The baddest one of all, the blood mirror is next.
The blood mirror
I would rather have the death bed than this mirror. Sure, I don't live at home anymore, but the fact that it exists bothers me. It's called the blood mirror because the seal used to keep the back of the mirror to the frame is blood. Blood isn't like glue so were were able to crack the frame off easily (we were going to save the frame and replace the mirror around the first week we had it, but we put everything back together). One of my mothers relatives (the first woman to kill herself) used to do this with cabnet seals and stuff, so we weren't shocked when it happened, but we were spooked.
She tried to put her blood in everything because she was some type of witch, and she was trying to live forever or something. I know that's going to raise questions but we don't really know because there aren't any records of her anymore or any solid information or basis really in witchcraft. She was probably just plain nuts.
Here's a diagram of the upstairs where the mirror is. It will be important later.
code:--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brothers Room | Bathroom | Parents Room
| |
| |
|--------------------D------------------------------|
D D
-----------------| Hallway |
Blood Mirror D |
Room |--------------------------------D------| |
| Metal frame mirror room | Stairs |
| | |
| | |
----------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's crude, but there you go. It's all upstairs.
Ghost stairs
There are three types of ghosts on the stairs. The first is the casual walker, who will walk at a calm pace. Even if you stare at the stairs, whatever it is will keep walking. This doesn't happen to often anymore, but it was really cool when it did.
The second is the clumbsy runner. Someone just takes off and kinda trips and stumbles on the stairs on the way up. It's like a kid running. Very rare to happen.
Both all reach the landing on the second floor and walk towars the blood mirror room, past the metal mirror room. That's how I connect the stairs walkers, but I could be wrong.
The third is horrible.
I was asleep one night and I woke up to a loud thud downstairs. I listened as whatever it was ran full speed to the stairs, up the stairs, down the hall, and slammed into the door with the blood mirror in it and kept slamming. . .where I was sleeping. I started shaking because I just woke up and it sounded like some madman was in the house comming for me and I wasn't ready. My dad comes out of his room and yells "what the **** are you doing at. . " and trails off. No one was there in the hallway.
The knocker
The knocker comes in two varieties. The knocking with the death bed room is more of someone making a fist, sticking out his or her index finger, and gently rapping on the door. The first knocker with the mirror is nothing like that. It's more of a full fist, all four knuckles rapping on the door. This one comes once in a while and just knocks on the blood mirror door for about two minutes, sometimes during the day.
"knock knock knock" (quickly but gently)
Me: "yeah, what?"
"knock knock knock"
Me: "yeah?"
"Knock knock knock"
Me: "what?!" (I go to answer the door)
I open the door and there's only dead silence.
The second knocker is a full-fist pounding that shakes the door. This has happened twice.
The first time was 10 seconds of beating on the door at 2 in the morning. I go to the door because I think it's an emergency, and no one is there.
The second time I heard the pounding and didn't get up (this was about six months later). Every ten seconds something would pound on the door and pause for about one minute. Then I heard the doorknob wiggle. Scratching on the door. The doorknob shaking slightly.
Then BAM!! One big hit smacks the door and I hear something run downstairs and into the kitchen, where there is no more noise.
Scratching.
Scratching has been heard on many seperate occasions, from either inside the closet or from behind the mirror. I would have to say from behind the closet is scarier to me because I saw the movie House when I was young, and if you've seen that movie you know that a certain part can leave an impression on a kid.
The scratching is very light, and not in one spot. The scratching will go from low in the closet to high like something trying to figure a way out. If you see the orginal haunting, there is a scene when something is trying to get into a door and it sounds just like this. The pounding on the door wasn't similar, but the scratching is dead on.
Behind the mirror you hear scratching sometimes, only around 1 or five in the morning. Sometimes there is a tapping sound, but mostly scratching.
I got more, but I got to take a break for a sec if that's ok.
Why I hate the blood mirror.
Sure it attracts things that knock on the door and run up the stairs. Yeah there's scratching and tapping from the closet and mirror. When you look at it though, it's just noise. The blood mirror, however, is more than just noise.
It could be any day, at any time, with any one in the room, and then it attacks. Since the mirror has no way to directly hurt you, it makes you hurt yourself. I have been quietly watching tv or talking to friends that are in the same room with me and the blood mirror, and you can feel it come alive.
The room temperature will drop 40, 50, 60 degrees within minutes so you can see your breath. You can't concentrate or focus on what you were doing. Your eyes can't focus on one point, and you're unaware of what you're body is doing. All you can really hear is your heart pounding at a rythmic pace. Suddenly you, and anyone else around, is in a haze. . .a trance.
When you regain focus, you realize you're bleeding.
The most common thing people will do is scratch themselves with their fingers on their left hand on their right arm or upper chest. Without thinking, people will dig huge gashes into their bodies with just their fingers and not know it. Everytime they will look at the mirror when they realize what they just did.
It doesn't happen often, but when it does it's truly frightening. The best example I have is when I brought my now ex-girlfriend to show her the room because I had told her about all the ghosts in my house. When we walked in I said:
"Here's my old room, and there's the mirror."
And as soon as I said that and pointed to the mirror, the temperate began to drop drastically. I went over to some shelves to see how much of my stuff my little brother had taken since I had left, and I took my eyes off her. When I looked back at her she was staring at a wall, with a desperately sorrowful face, and digging into her right arm. I grabbed her, and as I did I must have woke her up out of her trance. She looked scared until she saw the cuts in her arm and screamed. She was out of the house before I could leave the room. As soon as she left, the room instantly got warmer. It wanted her. . .something about her she liked.
The blood mirror still stands today behind an old dresser. My mother always gets crippling arthritic pain whenever she goes to take down the mirror and get rid of it. The pain is so bad she can't even grip silverware. . .until she decides to do something else. I moved the dresser drawer to hide the mirror, to bury it, so it won't bother anyone else. Some day the dresser drawer will be moved and the mirror will reflect the light of day again, and I know it will be even angrier than it was before I hid it. I pity the person that inherits it then.
Thank God for ebay.
Sorry for the crappy joke. Anyways, I need to clarify some earlier stuff I wrote about so i'll do that in another post if you want me too. Also, i've got some other stories, some of which are my friends if you want them. Thanks for all the support so far.
As for why my parents keep these things, I have no idea. My parents are addicted to anything that has been passed down through the family, and their house is now loaded with stuff from both sides. My mother hates the mirrors, but she only wants to take them down and not throw them away because they've been in the family. It's a weird mix of stuff from both sides of my parents families. My father has old, ratty stuff like the old death bed, and my mother has expensive stuff from when her family was rich and lived in a mansion. It's like we have stuff from Night of the Living Dead, and The Haunting all in one place.
My mother has the family opals, which are exquisite pieces of jewelry that only women in the family can wear, not because of tradition, but of some type of super bad luck. She also has these 80+ year old ruby glasses. The glasses aren't made of rubies, but they are a beautiful blood red and flawless. When she inherited them about 10 years ago, she said she had to put them in a sturdy china cabnet or they'll fall and break. That's because every other day you can hear someone run through the dinning room and to the china hutch, where the glasses are.
My dad has this old trunk from Ireland that has the creepiest lamp (that used to be kept in the seance room too) in it, pictures of my Indian (native american) relatives that we no longer know who they are, and some sentimental news clippings from a cousin of ours in Ireland who was with the IRA, but was really a child killer. No one wants this stuff, the trunk used to be in the basement next to the seance room, and it's ugly to boot, but it's old and has stuff from the family.
They just won't get rid of stuff that's old and has been in the family. Destroying the death bed was kinda hard for my dad to do, but WE STILL HAVE PARTS FROM THE MIRROR. All of it is ugly, everyone knows the pieces are cursed or at least haunted, and we don't need any of the pieces at all, but they still keep them. I mean christ, those opals, once put on, cannot be taken off until right before the coffin closes, and you are to be buried in the ground. If you take them off the body earlier, or accept them as a gift while the original wearer is still alive, you will go mad. Apparently that's not enough to call the pieces cursed since it has only happened TWICE in the past 40 years. It also happens 100% of the time too, but that doesn't matter.
I'll take as many pictures as possible while i'm there. It's like sentimental pieces from a haunted mansion all over the place.
About why there are things happening in the basement to our house, I don't know. There are things everywhere in the house, and the basement is no exception. I'll do an outline of the house, and when I get a chicago ghost hunt going, we'll stop by my house for a quick tour.
Basement:
Only thing here is the shadow man and the swinging boxing bag. The shadow man has only been seen twice, and has "charged" everytime he knows you're looking. He doesn't come straight at you, but follows the walls around.
The swinging punching bag was really fun. It happened about every other time anyone was downstairs, and it was really cool. I had a 110 pound leather punching bag attached to the ceiling of the basement. Really simple construction: just a swivle hitch bolted into the ceiling, and a three chains attached to the hitch. You would be sitting downstairs, watching tv or talking to friends, and the chain would start to creak. For a while we thought vibrations somehow moved the bag, until two of us saw how it started. The bag would be perfectly still, then it would move about a foot in one direction, and then swing back. It was creepy because you knew something was moving that bag.
Ground floor:
All you get are the occasional runner, the night light painting, and I guess orbs. Once in a while you see a quick flash of light like a firefly, usually in the spring or fall.
Upstairs:
This is where the mirrors are and the knocking. Sometimes you hear mumbling, something moving papers (and always flipping up the system you have), lots of motion in the mirrors (bathroom and metal frame), and one of our dogs growling at something in the hallway briefly. If you have cat in your room, the cat will wake up sometimes and just stare at the door for a good five minutes, and then sometimes go under the bed. The upstairs is where the fun is.
Oh, and I should mention that our new dog won't go into the dinning room where most of our inherited stuff is. He'll whine and cry if he looks in there, won't come if you're offering him tasty hamburger, and will fight you if you carry him in there. He gets over it, and then one night you hear the china cabnet move in the dinning room, and he freaks out.
Until this thread, I never really thought about all the **** up stuff we have in our house. I knew we had some bad things, but I just realized how much we have there.
Here's a story my dad used to tell:
When he was a boy, his parents lived on a farm. Not the same farm house with the basement, but a different place. For the first years of his life he was farmer, tending the fields and the animals in virtual isolation from the outside world.
When he was eight he got his own room. It was a fairly sized room with dark wood walls, and a thick wood ceiling. The curtains were kinda see-through and cheap, so they would never block the sun, but always make the room look yellow.
The interesting thing about this room was that it was under the attic. The attic didn't cover the whole upstairs, but just his room and the bathroom. It was small and had been sealed since his parents moved in, so no one really cared to use it.
His first night in his own room was exciting to him. He had a hard time going to sleep, and only around midnight or so did he start to get drowsy. As he was drifting to sleep, he heard something from the attic. It wasn't wind or the house settling, but footsteps, all over the attic. He laid quietly as the footsteps slowly marched all around the attic, and eventually stopped over his bed. Thinking the noises had stopped, he tried to close his eyes and rest until tomorrow when he can tell his parents what he heard. Then he heard the scratching.
Slow, rythmic scratching from the attic floor, right above his face. Never changing pace, never getting louder, or quieter. Whatever it was kept scratching for an hour, and then stopped for the night.
He told his dad what he heard, and his dad opened up the nailed wooden planks on the attic door opening in the hallway. When the doorway was open, his father looked around so he could see what kind of animal had been scratching, and where it got in. After an extensive search of the basement, his father could find nothing, and told my dad he was dreaming the whole thing. My father knew better, but seeing the heavy planks get nailed back up over the door made him feel more secure.
That night the same scratching happened again.
And the night after that.
And the night after that.
And for the rest of the week.
His parents noticed that he was pale and wasn't eating, and the became very concerned. My dad couldn't eat or sleep because he was so afraid of what has happening in the attic above his room. His father had enough of this silliness, and went up to the attic, removed the planks, took my father into the attic, and pointed to the space above my fathers room, where there were finger sized grooves in the attic floor.
My father says he always remember being scared out of his mind because he didn't know what was in the attic with them now, but his dad didn't panic. His dad just picked him up, calmly left the attic, sealed the attic door again, moved my fathers stuff out of his room, and sealed the room; all within five minutes. His dad never paniced or acted afraid at all, and after the room was sealed he came downstairs and said to his mother "we're leaving this week. Pack your stuff, we're moving somewhere else, and i'm getting a new job."
Then he moves into the house with the hidden basement, but that's not really his fault I guess.
Who took the picture of the main person's face while he was in Floyd's Tomb? B couldn't fit and Joe went alone.