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 Story and image sent to me from Linda Gallegher in Belmont, NC. "In 2004 my husband Scott and I found a beautiful Victorian-era home in a few towns over going for a surprisingly low cost. The house was in excellent condition despite being so old, so we jumped at the deal and purchased it. Our first night there, my two children, Adam and Nicholas, complained of the stairs creaking constantly. I told them the house was old and it was a little drafty; we had to reassure them there were no monsters living under the stairs. After that, our days went relatively uneventfully. Three months later, I awoke suddenly from a deep sleep to hear the sound of someone sobbing. Assuming it was Adam, my youngest, I ran to the kids' bedroom to check on them. They were sound asleep. The wailing continued. I hurried back to my bedroom and roused my husband. Once he was awake, he listened and heard it too. We left the room and went into the hallway, where we saw what appeared to be a wispy, headless human figure floating away from us. We froze and it disappeared into the bathroom. From that night on, we noticed strange occurences. Door would close and shut, especially the doors to the bathroom and the spare bedroom. I tried to get Nicholas to move into that bedroom so he would have his own, but he refused. He claimed a sad woman lived in there. One day after work I decided to do some research. In 1898, a decade after the house was built, a young woman by the name of Elizabeth Chester was found murdered in the bathroom, decapitated. Her murderer was her uncle, an untreated paranoid schizophrenic that frequently went into mad rages. Her body was buried in the cemetary two miles away from here, but her head was never found. After a week of constant reminders that someone else was there, the supernatural activity stopped for months. After a year, Nicholas felt comfortable to move into the guest bedroom and my husband decided to renovate it: replace the cracking wood floors and paint. One Saturday when Scott was tearing up the floorboards and I was downstairs watching TV, I heard his cry out in surprise. I hurried upstairs and into the bedroom. He turned to me, his face pale, and simply pointed at the hole in the floor. In it sat a human skull, yellowed with age and dusty. Beside it was a folded piece of paper. Uneasily, I reached in and picked it up. Unfolding it, I read it aloud: 'Elizabeth, my dear Elizabeth, your sweet face is to be hidden away safely forever. I trust not the men that court you, the lecherous swine that they are. Heaven is where you truly belong, my sweet Elizabeth, and I kept a part of you here with me to remind me of my favorite niece.' I turned to my husband, whose pale complexion suddenly seemed even more pallid. He stared at the wall, trying to speak but unable to form words. I glanced to where he stared and almost fainted in horror. A woman in a long Victorian gown stood before us, not wispy or transparent but plain as day. I could have reached out and touched her if I so desired. Her neck was severed completely; blood poured from the headless stump to the floor. After what seemed like hours, she turned to the window and disappeared. Quickly, I ran and got a towel. Tossing it over the skull, I picked it up and wrapped it safely. 'What are you doing?' Scott demanded. I told him that she meant us no harm, she merely wanted to be at peace. I told him to stay with the kids; I would be back soon. I took the skull with me to the cemetary, along with a small gardening shovel. I searched for an hour before I found her grave, the tombstone crumbling but her name clear: ELIZABETH CHESTER. The graveyard was most empty, and whatever people that were there were occupied with their own matters. Subtlely, I dug a small hole at the head of the grave and buried the skull under a foot and a half of soil. Since then, nothing has happened in our house. Nicholas complains of nothing in his bedroom, and our nights are worry-free. The picture I attached with this story is a picture that Scott took during the height of paranormal activity. My youngest Adam is the further to the left, while Nicholas is the third from the left. Here they are seen playing with the neighborhood kids. Quite clearly, you can see a figure to the back next to the tree. I have no idea what the yellow whisps in the foreground are. Hopefully, Elizabeth is at peace. Every once in a while, I swear I hear a faint whisper saying my name or 'I slumber.' I hope my story has been interesting and informative."
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Jun 14, 2009 08:20
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| # ¿ Apr 24, 2024 19:28 |
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 Story and picture by Evan Summers. "Throughout my years of college I thought of myself as a sort of amateur ghost-hunter. I would go out alone or in small groups of friends to graveyards or old broken-down houses and take pictures and audio, searching back later for EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomena) or anything weird in photos. I usually found something interesting, but most things were usually explained away as dust or reflections or wind. It wasn't until I went to visit my dad in Pennsylvania that I got my best shot of all. At about 12:45 AM on April 25, 2009, I set out for the graveyard seven blocks from the apartment to take some pictures. The night was uneventful. The graveyard was small, so there wasn't much to shoot. Just as I was about to head home, I heard a bloodcurdling scream near the path. My heart racing, I hurried back to the path, hoping it was a ghost and not a human. The scream was unworldly, and really hard to describe: it sounded animalistic yet human, and part of me was trying to convince myself I hadn't actually heard it, but it was all in my head. As I reached the path, I stopped dead in my tracks. Something that might have been a girl was crouched near a headstone. Her skin was sickly white, her hands mutilated into nothing but twisted stumps, and her legs were stubby and stuck out of her body in strange positions. Breathing heavily, I snapped a shot. At the flash, the girl raised her head. Her eyes were two black, empty sockets, and they stared into my soul. I suddenly felt like I was freezing and somewhat numb. I raised my camera again and took another shot. Bad idea. The creature reared her head back and let out another ungodly scream. It pierced my ears... I felt something warm and wet in them, as if she had caused them to bleed. As she screamed, I shot another picture and began to run. I looked back to see her chasing after me; the way she ran was horrifying. The only way I could possible describe it is for you to imagine a crab scuttling forward instead of sideways. I ran and ran. I ran all the way back to the apartment. I ran upstairs, unlocked the door, and hurried inside. Locking it behind me, I fell to the ground and touched my ears. The blood had started to dry. There was blood. I hadn't imagined it. I developed the pictures the next day. The first one turned out completely black, while the second turned out clear, but had no Screaming Girl in it. The third was the only image I have of her, though it is a bad shot due to the fact that I was starting to run. Since the incident I have been cold. It's been warm, but I am constantly freezing. I can see my own breath when I exhale not matter how hot my surroundings are. Every night I dream of her. She did something to me."
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Jun 15, 2009 18:11
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Less words, more Photoshop. The idea of the tentacle-y man is interesting, but I'd rather see Photoshops+stories in a Photoshop thread than just stories.
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Jun 15, 2009 19:52
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Blobone posted:Campers This plus the story is pretty awesome.
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Jun 16, 2009 04:37
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I thought the Slender Man pictures didn't bother me until I stepped out on to my back porch to smoke. I have dark woods behind my apartment with lots of rambunctious deer... so yeah. Creepy stuff.
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Jun 16, 2009 06:23
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