Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes from Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you spooky ghost stories for your evening entertainment.
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Now let’s begin…
A Person Named Skella
When I lived in the city with my boyfriend, a lot of weird things happened around the house for awhile when we were all moving in. At first I didn’t think of any of it as ‘paranormal’, because it just started off as creaks and bumps and pops, and our house was well over 80 years old in the middle of the city. My original explanations were usually simple like humidity, age, or even rats. But then it started sounding like other people were home when I should have been the only one there.
The first time I was actually startled was a day that my boyfriend and I were planning on going out to a late lunch together because it was our day off. I told him to go outside and wait for me while I dug around our room for my shoes.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed tying my sneaker when I heard my boyfriend talking in the bathroom, and the only reason I knew it was the bathroom was because it gave off a specific ‘sound’ when people spoke in there. I wasn’t paying attention to it really, I could only hear it in the background.
I locked our door behind me, and turned the corner to the bathroom to see what all the commotion was about. But nobody was there. I called out for my boyfriend a couple of times, but he didn’t answer.
I ran down the stairs, and got outside to see him waiting on the sidewalk. I asked him who he was talking to in the bathroom, but he said he walked straight down the stairs right after I said to hurry out without me while I looked for my shoes. I told him what I had heard, and he widened his eyes a bit. Apparently he had heard the same exact thing the morning before while me and the other roommates were working.
Prior to us moving here, my boyfriend was very skeptical of these kinds of things, but living here proved otherwise. Things began happening in our bedroom, and our bedroom only, and it started becoming a nightly routine. I could have sworn it all rooted from our closet.
Things started moving around by themselves, and one thing in particular that we had to get used to was our bags getting tossed around whenever we came home from the supermarket.
The first few times that we heard it, our best assumption was that there was a mouse in our room, and was running its way under the plastic bags. One night after work, I stopped and picked up milk, eggs, and some junk-food. I put the bags up against the same wall where we usually kept them, plopped myself on the bed with my boyfriend, and played a bit of Ocarina of Time.
We heard the bags start moving, but this time when we looked over, you could see the tops of the bags moving and swishing around themselves. It was as if your mother had just come home from a huge shopping as a kid and she told you she bought you dunkaroos or something, and you tore through every bag to find them.
This happened on the regular. And then I began seeing something in the basement whenever I did our laundry. I could only see it from the corner of my eye, but it was always the same. It was a solid body of grey that went from right to left. I could never see it looking directly at it.
One night in the kitchen, all of my roommates were home for a change. Somebody had mentioned seeing something in the basement, and one by one they all finished each others’ sentence about what it did and what it looked like. And it was the exact same thing I had described.
There was even a night where somebody responded to me that wasn’t there. We had faulty wiring that ran partially upstairs, so sometimes half of our hallway would have no electricity. One night, I leaned over from the top of the stairwell and yelled, “Hey guys, could somebody go in the basement and hit the button on the box? My lights are out again.” I didn’t get a response, so I just sighed and turned around. As I walked towards my bedroom I heard, “I know.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, because it certainly did NOT match any of my friends’ voices. I looked around downstairs to find I was the only one home. I ran out the door and stayed at the pizza shop down the street until one of my roommates got home from work.
Later that night, my boyfriend and I called it in around 2 in the morning. I was nearly half asleep when I heard him choking. I turned around to see he had his back towards me, so I put my hand on his shoulder and asked him if he was alright. Right as I was doing so he asked me the same question. He shot straight up and said, “Oh my god, I thought that was you.”
We ran out of our room and called out for one of our roommates, the one who didn’t necessarily believe us whenever something happened. We had him come in our room for awhile because we said things were acting up. I turned the TV on, and 5 minutes later, my roommate stops drawing and drops his pencil and puts his arms in the air. “I shit you not,” he said. “You were right.” He told me that while he was drawing, my scarf had caught his eye. It was hanging from the side of my bookcase when he noticed it was suspended in the air horizontally and didn’t stop as soon as he looked at it.
But like I said, things always seemed to originate from my closet. Our closet didn’t fit very well with the rest of the house. It was recently boarded up inside of it, and it didn’t match the shape it should have been when you opened it. It was sealed kind of funny, and had random bolts in it. There was even a wall that was much closer than what should have been the end of my closet.
Finally, we moved out of that bedroom. Too many sounds were bothering us, and I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. When I would lie down to sleep, I couldn’t relax, I was always waiting to hear something. Our once-skeptical roommate took that bedroom while we moved into the one next to it.
That day it was just us three, my boyfriend, that roommate, and myself. Throughout the day we were both finishing up putting our rooms together and putting our art and posters up. Our roommate lined his walls with his beloved movie posters, and it looked fantastic.
He locked his door and hung-out with us for a little while. When he went back to open his door, I was in the bathroom ironing my hair when I heard him say “What the fuck, who was in my room?”
All of his posters had been taken off the walls and were placed neatly on top of each other on his bed with all of the tacks in a pile.
Before everyone went to bed that night, I could hear my roommate saying that whatever was in his room needed to leave, because it wasn’t welcome there anymore. My boyfriend and I looked at each other sort of in a worried way, but weirdly happy at the same time only because we were glad other people were experiencing these things too.
There were a couple of ugly fights in that new bedroom we had, and sometimes when it was just me alone, I would cry and call my mother and tell her how much I wanted to come back home. There was a night I called home, and while speaking to my mother I sobbed with my face buried in the opposite hand of me holding my phone. I said, “Mom I just can’t do this anymore, I want to come home and never come back to this place.” And from behind my bed I heard an exhale and a stressed, elongated “don’t” as if it were whining. I instantly stopped crying and turned around but there wasn’t anything there. My mirror flipped itself and that was that. After that night, nothing ever happened again. There was a different feeling in the house from that time on.
by Adam Carl Castillo
It was already 7:45 pm, and I was alone in the house because my dad took my mom out for a “date”. My older sister was still not home, which I found a bit unusual, since she was always home at around 6:00-6:30. My eldest sister won’t be home until 11:00 or 11:30 since she gets out of work at that time.
Since I was alone, I watched a movie while waiting for everyone to come home. I first prepared myself a little dinner so I would have something to eat. I switched on the DVD player and put in a movie. Halfway through it however, I suddenly got bored so I switched off the system and read The True Philippine Ghost Stories (A popular horror book in my country) while listening to music from my MP3 with an earphone plugged in one ear so I won’t have any difficulties in hearing anything.
My sister arrived a few moments later and I felt relieved for some reason that there’s someone I’m with already. After seeing me on the couch she asked me, “Where’s mom and dad?” I glanced at her from behind the book and said, “They went out.”
“Okay… Well I’ll be upstairs if you need me. You wait for mom and dad to come home, clear?” I simply replied “Okay.” “I’ll be upstairs.” “Whatever…”, I replied.
I was sitting on the sofa beside the mirror that reflects the door. Every time I looked in the mirror’s direction, I got this weird feeling as if someone is looking back at me. I just shrugged it off, thinking I was just becoming paranoid reading too many scary stories and playing too much horror games.
It was around 8:05 when strange things began happening. I heard a knock on the door. Maybe mom and dad were home already, so I stood up and walked to the front door. When I was several steps away, I heard a loud bang as if someone was forcing themselves into the house.
I backed away a few steps from the door and grabbed a broom. I slowly approached the door and quickly opened it, expecting something to jump out at me, but saw nothing. I stuck my head outside and looked around but didn’t see or feel anything except the slight gust of wind that slowly brushed through my face.
I went inside and closed the door, laughing at myself for being too paranoid. But I swore I heard someone knock… that surely wasn’t my imagination… how could my imagination explain that loud bang I just heard? Thinking I’m really just paranoid, I continued reading while listening to music. After 10 minutes or so the knocking sounded again, but this time I had the feeling of being annoyed, and at the same time, fear. The knocking went on for a few more minutes until it finally stopped.
I phoned my best friend, who is a bit of a psychic, and told him there’s something strange going on and that I always get a weird feeling whenever I look in the mirror. He asked “You can feel it too…” After a moment of silence, I asked him , “Feel what?” and after another moment of silence, he told me something that made me feel even more uncomfortable.
He told me that when he first visited my house, he saw long strands of hair scattered on the floor by the front door, and a feeling of uneasiness wrapped himself. After hearing this, I told him it isn’t funny and I asked him if he was trying to prank me and stated it was a risible attempt to scare me, to which he replied “No.”. And then he apologized for scaring me. I told him it’s okay, and I’ll see him tomorrow before I said goodbye and hung up.
I just continued reading, this time hoping nothing interrupts me. I stood up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water and went back to the living room. Just as I was about to pick up the book from the coffee table, something caught my eye in the doorway of the kitchen. It seemed like a shadow. I looked at the doorway for a few moments and then called out, “Hey sis… are you there?” but got nothing as a response.
I was trying to get all the weird feelings off me, but I just couldn’t help but look at the mirror every time I get the urge to do so. After looking at the mirror a few more times, I looked at the mirror another time and what I saw made my hair on the back of my neck stand: it was a human head partially covered in hair. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was just playing off. I was wrong. It was absolutely real!
The feeling is becoming even more uneasy at every passing minute. I ignored the fact that there was something really scary that will haunt my dreams. When I gathered the courage to look at the mirror for the last time, it is the decision I regretted deeply.
The face is right in front of the mirror already, as if it’s trying to get out of it. The face did something that would traumatize any child: It smiled at me. I saw its pale face with streaks of blood on it. The sight of this horrible entity made me sweat in fear, and I then passed out.
I woke up at around 10:30. The horrors I experienced haven’t left me. Through the corner of my eye I can still see the head is still there, staring at me. I heard my mom’s voice call on the front door. I rushed to the door, tripping like an idiot.
When they were inside already, I joined them in the kitchen and asked my mom how their date went. My mom said happily, “Oh, it’s the best date I’ve ever had!” while looking at my dad who was smiling at her.
A few minutes later, I told her all about what happened, but I haven’t told her that the ghost still hasn’t left its place.The moment I told my mom about the head that was on the mirror, the smile she had on her face disappeared and was replaced with a worried expression as she looked at my dad. “What’s wrong?” I said “Oh nothing… it’s just…” “Just what?”.
My mom told me that when we moved here, the mirror was already here. She found the mirror nicely decorated and looked good for furniture and she kept it instead of selling it. Like the way I did, she experienced weird happenings when she was alone, like a shadow lurking around. She once saw a man that stood behind her when she was alone in the house, but she just tried to ignore them, hoping it will go away.
A year has passed, but that horrifying experience I had still hasn’t left my mind. About the ghost? Whenever I look at the mirror, I can still see the head… never leaving its place.
by Alex Murder
This can’t go on, it really can’t. I can’t get one moment of shuteye without jolting up from my bed a minute after and flipping every single light switch in my apartment on. I have work tomorrow and I absolutely need at least a few hours of sleep, but it looks like it’s not happening tonight either.
This has been a reoccurring event for me for the past week, ever since I went to my aunt’s funeral. I know some people don’t handle the concept of death well but, damn, this is ridiculous. I wasn’t even close with her, attending only because I was pressured by my mom. It was on a Saturday too, there went my weekend.
Don’t get me wrong, I feel really bad for the old hag, she was fighting with some really tough health issues, but I didn’t think seeing her lifeless body could affect me on such a level. Maybe because it was my first time seeing an actual dead person that it left me so mentally scarred.
To be more specific, it wasn’t the body itself, it was the fact that they didn’t close her eyes for some reason. Is that common? It’s like no one else had noticed. I asked my cousin afterwards about it, but he just responded with a shrug. Throughout the whole ceremony, I stared down at her once energetic green eyes. That blank look, those stern features… It was like she was scolding me even in death.
Even though it gave me chills at the time, I quickly pushed it to the back of my mind and continued on with my life, as usual. However, the image of her undead glare always stuck with me. Every time I would nod off at work or home, I would get a flashback to her just staring up at the sky with those cold eyes. Needless to say, it didn’t help with my sleep schedule.
It’s getting worse too, even when I am awake I feel as if she’s staring at me from some corner of the room and judging my every action. Maybe I will skip work tomorrow to visit a specialist about my paranoia. I never trusted doctors of any kind, but I am getting desperate.
I am telling you guys, it’s not good. I see my reflection on the screen as I type this and the lack of sleep has not been kind to me. Seriously, I look like… wait a minute. I don’t have green eyes.
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That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightares.
