The Creepy Old Caravan

* Sent in by Selena Coles (Queensland, Australia)

I don’t know much about ghosts and all that stuff but I’m pretty sure my husband renovated a haunted caravan.  Sounds weird I know, but nothing else can explain it.

My hubby Tony started his own business after he retired, buying, renovating, refurbishing and selling caravans and camper trailers.  His specialty was old retro vans and people sought him out for his expertise and attention to detail.

A few years back a couple in their early 40’s came in with a tired, rundown old caravan dating back to the 70’s.  It was a big old beauty but it was in very bad condition.  Tony got to work on it nonetheless, optimistic about its eventual restoration.

Working in the yard one day I could hear Tony calling my name from his workshop.  I made my way into the shed wondering what all the fuss was about.  I couldn’t see Tony anywhere so I called his name loudly.  His head popped out the door of the old van with a perplexed look on his face.

“Did you just call me darl?” Tony asked me.

“Yes ... I called you because you called me ... didn’t you?” I replied.

Tony then emerged from the van looking all the more confused.  “No I didn’t ... you were calling me.”

I shook my head in disagreement.

“You called me first though didn’t you?” he asked me.

Then it was my turn to be confused.  Tony went on to explain that while he’d been working on the van he’d heard me calling him.  He said it sounded as though I was right behind him in the van, but when he turned around I wasn’t there, so he went back to his work.  A couple of moments later he said he’d heard me call his name again, then again.  That was when he’d called out to me.

Leaving us both a little baffled, we both went off to do our respective chores ... Tony back to his van and me back to the weeding in the garden.

Later that night Tony brought up the strange experience again, but the more we discussed it, the more confused we became.

The following morning I headed into town and didn’t return until early evening.  Tony had closed up his workshop (strange within itself) and was waiting for me in the kitchen upon my return.  He looked more than just a little rattled.

“You were calling me again today,” he stated before I’d even had a chance to put my handbag down.  He continued, “I kept feeling like someone was watching me all day.  Every time I went near the old van I kept getting the feeling that I wasn’t alone.  And I’d get myself a tool to do something, but the moment I put it down it was moved or disappeared completely.  I found my screwdriver up on one of the cabinets and I know I never put it there.  Took me half an hour to find it.”

I certainly couldn’t imagine what was going on, but Tony wasn’t one to make up stories.
A week or so later the owners of the van rang to see how the renovations were progressing.  Tony asked them what they knew of the history of the van, and they told him that they’d bought it through a friend, so would see what they could find out.

Tony worked on the van diligently and did a splendid job of restoring it as well as installing some modern conveniences as per the owner’s requirements.  Each night though, after spending time working on the van, Tony would tell me about the constant feeling of being watched, hearing his name amongst other words and voices, his tools continued to vanish and turn up in odd places and it was always cold inside the caravan.

The caravan was near completion and I was curious to take a look for myself.  Tony was busy fitting new lights to the outside of the van so I took myself inside and sat on the newly refurbished couch.  

I can’t really explain what I felt or why, but within a few moments I felt a cold chill run right through me and I shivered involuntarily.  I also got the feeling that someone was watching me from the moment I stepped inside.  As much as I was determined to stick it out, I just felt so uncomfortable that I was forced out of the van.  All I really know is that there was something strange about that old caravan and both Tony and I were glad to see it finally finished and out of the workshop.

When the owners arrived to pick it up they were over the Moon about the job Tony had done on their own van ... but hadn’t been able to find out the origins of the van or any information about its history.  I don’t think I really want to know anyway.  I’m just pleased nothing like that has happened to us since.

**

* Sent in by Selena Coles (Queensland, Australia)

Saved From Being Hit by a Train

* Sent in by Ken Milne

I was our shopping with my girlfriends in town and had seriously overspent of some homewares and clothes and was lamenting my impulsive urges over lunch.  It was a common occurrence with me so my friends just laughed off my whinging and whining.

We went our separate ways after our catch-up and I made my way to the train station, stopping briefly at my favourite bakery before heading home.  I plugged in my earphones to call my boyfriend to tell him I’d be a little and late and not to worry.  I was busy chatting away when I approached the pedestrian boom-gate next to the tracks.  I’ll admit that I wasn’t really paying much attention, so I casually glanced to my right after the first train passed, oblivious to the other train coming the other way on the other track.  I just blindly went to step out.  But something held me back.  I couldn't move my arms or legs and I felt totally rooted to the spot.  I couldn’t move a muscle.  It was like something or someone had me in a full body hold.  In a flash the trained rushed passed me and I felt the wind gushing harshly against my face and body.  It scared the life out of me and my heart was beating in my throat when I realized how close I’d come to being hit, and possibly killed, by that speeding train.

My body then totally relaxed and felt back to normal and I tentatively made my way across the tracks to the platform.

I can’t really explain who or what stopped me from stepping in front of that train, but I’m certainly grateful that it did.

*

* Sent in by Ken Milne

Forced Out Of Our Own Home

 * Sent in by Samantha Bouncer

In hindsight, I should have been a little suspicious when our neighbour Jacob told me that all the previous tenants of the house we’d just rented never stayed for very long.  But at the time I was so happy that we’d managed to find a decent place to rent that I didn’t give it a second thought.

I was pregnant with my first child and my priority was a safe and secure home for our little family.  The first four months were quite uneventful for me and my partner Mark, but after our son Jayden was born strange things started happening.

Our near-new television set started flickering when we watched it at night, then it stopped working altogether.  I sent it off to be repaired only to have the repairman ring me a few days later to tell me that my TV was in perfect working order and not a problem could be found.  So I got it back and it worked again for a couple of nights until it went blank and shut down.  I took it to a different repair shop, and exactly the same thing happened.  Nothing wrong with it.  Within a fortnight our washing machine, dryer and stereo all broke down unexpectedly.  

My cat Chloe also started behaving strangely.  She had always been a very loving and relaxed cat, but I noticed that she seemed spooked most of the time and didn’t like to spend time inside the house.  Chloe would sit staring at nothing and would occasionally hiss and spit and lash out at something (or someone) that we just couldn’t see.  She seemed tormented and unsettled all the time so I ended up giving my beloved Chloe to my sister Sarah, where she settled in straight away and quickly went back to her old happy, loving ways.

Not long after Chloe’s departure we started hearing all sorts of noises, banging, footsteps and metallic-sounding scratching and tinging.  At times I would notice random unexplainable cold spots around the house. We also developed problems with the door and window locks.  I’d o out during the day only to come home to find the front door with open, knowing I’d securely locked it.  At other times I would go to get the mail or hang out the washing only to find I’d been locked out of the house.  Even when I’d chocked the door open, somehow it would close and lock.  I started having to carry a set of keys around with me when I was home.

The windows seemed to have a mind of their own and I’d find them open or closed at any time, knowing that I hadn’t touched them. We’d often hear banging on our bedroom walls and ceiling and doors opening and closing throughout the house.  Night times were eerie and creepy and I dreaded Jayden’s night time feeds.

I often felt very uncomfortable during the day when I was home alone with little Jayden.  I’d get the sensation that someone was watching me, and I’d feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise every time.  I particularly felt self-conscious when I was showering and changing my clothes. It really gave me the creeps.

I got up early one morning and checked on Jayden before making my way into the kitchen.  Once there I was confronted with my pots and pans on the floor and all the draws left open. I set about picking up the pots and putting them back in the cupboard, but as I’d put one in, another would fall off the shelf as though an unseen hand was pushing them off.  This was happening right in front of me and as much as I tried to hold onto my resolve I ended up fleeing the kitchen and hiding in my bedroom.  I rang Mark at his work and told him I’d had enough and wanted out of the house. Now.  I’d begun to feel more and more uncomfortable and safe and feared for all of us.

I also rang my friend Gina later that day and gave her an update on our creepy happenings.  She told me to leave it with her and she would get back to me later.  The following day she called me back with the name and number of a local medium and ghostbuster.  I rang and arranged for her to visit as soon as possible.

Within a couple of minutes of the medium entering my home, she commented that a young man in his late teens or early twenties was loitering but did not wish to communicate with her.  The medium persisted and walked from room to room.  She stopped in Jayden’s room and from the kitchen I could hear her quietly speaking out loud.

Some time later the medium came back into the kitchen and told me that she had tried to reason with our not-so-friendly ghost and convince him to go towards the light, but he had adamantly refused and had told her that he had no intention of leaving.  This was ‘his’ house and he’d be staying whether we liked it or not.  So, if he refused to leave, then we certainly would.  I made arrangements to move into my parent’s spare room right then and there.

Over the following two days we packed up our belongings and left, never looking back.

*
* Sent in by Samantha Bouncer

The Campfire Ghost

* Sent in by Ricky Compton

I still don’t know if it was a real ghost or not but it scared the crap out of me anyway.

Me and two of my mates went on a camping trip to Woods Point in Victoria about two years ago and it was a trip I’ll never forget.

I finally got my drivers’ license so decided to take a bit of a road trip one weekend.  I had never been there before, but my mate Geoff reckoned it was a great place to camp.

The first day we had a look at the old gold mines and shafts and did a bit of a tour of the area.  I didn’t like going into the old mines because they were unsafe and creepy.  I was happy to wait out the front while Geoff and Dave went in for a look.  Dave was sure he was going to find a rogue gold nugget and Geoff was always the first one to give anything a go.

Later that afternoon we pitched our tents, set up the swags and lit a campfire.  It was going to be a really cold night so we wanted to cook our food before dark and rug up in front of the fire.

It was about 11pm and I was ready to head into my swag for the night.  Geoff and Dave were doing the same.  Once settled we called out to one another, laughing and joking around.  I could see the silhouette of someone standing by the campfire.  I thought it must have been Dave, but then I heard his voice coming from the tent beside me.  So it must have been Geoff, so I yelled out and asked him what he was doing.  “Lying in bed” he told me, his voice coming from the tent to the right to me.  So with all three of us in our tents who was out there standing by the fire??

I didn’t want to get out of my swag, but my curiosity got the better of me.  I was scared but just couldn’t help myself.  

Peeking out through the zip on my tent, I saw an old bloke with a long, stringy grey beard, wearing a tattered flannel shirt.  But I couldn’t see below his knees or his feet.  All I could see was his head, torso and thighs.  I screamed in shock and fright.  The figure turned and looked at me then faded away to nothing.  I couldn’t believe my own eyes.  One moment the old man was there and the next he was gone.

By then Geoff and Dave were out of their tents demanding to know what the hell I was squealing about.

I stuttered and stammered and tried to describe what I’d seen.  The guys just looked at me like I was an idiot.  ‘Bullshit’ was the general consensus.

But I knew what I’d seen and no one could convince me otherwise.

We went back into our tents, but I didn’t sleep too well that night.

The entire following day the guys ribbed me about my ‘old man ghost’.  At every possible opportunity they stuck the boots in.  

I was so buggered that night that I went to bed not long after dinner, leaving Geoff and Dave by the fire.  I bombed out pretty quickly, but was woken up some time later by the sound of Dave yelling.  I sat up in my swag a bit disorientated.  Then I heard Geoff shuffling around in his tent.  Next thing I knew my tent zip opened and both Dave and Geoff bundled in.

“I saw him,” Dave blurted out.  “So did I” replied Geoff.  It took me a moment to register who they were talking about.  Then they described exactly what I’d seen the night before  -  an old bloke with a stringy grey beard and a flannelette shirt.  And just like the night before, the man’s feet and lower legs couldn’t be seen.

Both Dave and Geoff kept apologizing for taking the piss out of me.  We stayed awake for most of that night, way too spooked to sleep peacefully, and we were glad to see the Sun come up.

We left the campsite after breakfast and headed for home, glad to be leaving the ghost of the old man behind us.

*
* Sent in by Ricky Compton

Andrew’s Ghostly Playmate

* Sent in by Jen H.

I was home alone with my young son Andrew, doing chores and catching up on some cleaning around the house while Andrew went down for a nap.

Sometime later I could hear Andrew chattering from his bedroom so I knew that nap-time was over it was time for my two year old tornado to be let loose.

Walking up the hallway to Andrew’s room I stopped just outside his door.  Andrew continued talking to who I considered to be his imaginary friend.  What I found odd though, listening to his conversation, was that he was speaking and asking questions, then leaving a gap before speaking again as though it was a two-way conversation.  Then he laughed and said ‘you’re so funny Adam ...”     Adam??   I walked in at that point and Andrew abruptly stopped talking then looked over and smiled at me.  “This is my mummy,” he said to thin air.

A day or so later I was in the kitchen doing dishes while Andrew played on the floor in front of the bench where I could see him.  He was chatting away again and I watched as he sorted out his toys.  “One for you, one for me ... one for you, one for me,” he said as he put one toy in front of himself and another on a pile on the other side of the mat he sat on.  And so it went on until every toy was out of Andrew’s toy box.  Two distinct piles sat on the carpet in front of Andrew.  One for him and one for ... Adam?

I turned away to dry a cup and out the corner of my eye I thought I saw a flash of blue.  I looked quickly but only saw Andrew and his toys.  Nothing unusual there ...

Andrew chatted away and giggled to himself as he played, and I quickly made a phone call to my best girlfriend Donna.  She was due to come over for a play-date with her son Jordan and I wanted to ask her to stop by the shops to pick me up some milk.

Just as I was hanging up the phone I looked over to see Andrew holding up a toy as though presenting it to someone.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!  I watched as the toy seemed to drift in the air of its own accord.  It only lasted a second, but in that brief moment I was sure I saw it hang in mid-air, then be placed amongst the other toys on the pile.  I knew what I saw  -  but I couldn’t believe it.

Donna arrived, milk in hand.  She saw the look on my face and asked me what on Earth was wrong with me.  I said I was just feeling a little flustered as I didn’t want to tell her what I’d just witnessed.  She’d think I was nuts!

We settled in for a coffee at the kitchen bench and I tried my hardest to forget what I was sure I’d seen.  I kept thinking about it and looking at Andrew and Jordan playing on the floor.  Jordan was a little younger than Andrew but they played together nicely and got along well.  Soon enough there was three piles of toys on the mat  -  one for Andrew, one for Jordan and one for .... Adam?

Donna noticed that I was distracted and asked me what was on my mind.  I didn’t know what to say, so just made the excuse that I’d been feeling a little rundown and tired.  She nodded in empathy.  

I took myself off to the loo and left Donna to mind the boys.  Upon my return Donna asked me who ‘Adam’ was.  I asked her where she’d heard the name Adam, and she replied that both Andrew and Jordan had both referred to Adam, as though they were talking to someone that she couldn’t see.

At first I didn’t know what to say, but I knew I had to say something so I told her what had happened the other day as well as the toy episode from earlier that day.  I was expecting her to look at me as though I’d gone totally bonkers, but instead she listened intently, nodding here and there as I spoke.  She didn’t seem at all surprised ... in fact, she then went on to tell me of a similar experience that one of her workmates had had.  She told me that it was more common than what I would ever have thought.

I started to pay more attention after that and noticed that Adam seemed to be around most of the time.  It was like having an invisible tenant around the house.  

I never actually saw Adam myself although Andrew continued chatting to him for well over three years or so.  I got used to having Adam around even though he was never really all that present for me.  He made Andrew happy and content and that was the main thing from my perspective.

Over time though, Adam seemed to be around less and less as the years passed.
Today, Andrew has grown up to be a healthy and happy young man of 33 and nowadays has no memory of his childhood friend Adam.  But I remember him.

*
* Sent in by Jen H.

The Old Miner’s Cottage

* Sent in by Steven Corsa

We were finally building our dream home, but weren’t allowed to park our caravan on our land during construction, so we had to rent an old, small miner’s cottage off site.

It was a creepy place from the start and my wife and kids weren’t too keen on staying there.  The cottage had a strange musty smell to it, and the rooms were dark and dingey.  The garden was well over-grown and encroached on the windows and doors of the house.  Due to costs we didn’t have much choice but to stay and make the best of it, knowing that we would have our own beautiful new home to look forward to.  And the sooner the better.

Strange events started shortly after our family moved in.  Like I kept finding the back door open in the mornings, even though I’d made sure to lock them securely each night.  We’d also hear footsteps in the kitchen in the middle of the night and quite often the toilet light would turn itself on and off and the toilet would flush once or twice during the night. 

It made us all a bit jittery and my two kids, Chris (13) and Shannon (11) wouldn’t get out of their beds at night.  In fact, none of us were all that game to wander around at night.  We left that to our ‘friend’ who appeared to share the cottage with us. We heard knocking on the windows, kitchen cupboards and drawers opening and closing, and at times we could sense when our resident ghost was around.

As a family we tried to ignore the occurrences as much as we could and just set about getting our house to lock-up stage so that we could move in.  All we could do was grin and bare it.
The disturbances around the house went on for the entire five months that we lived there, and although nothing ever truly frightening happened, it was still very disconcerting to know that the ghost of a dead person was hanging around, day and night.  

As a family we were more than relieved when our house was finally ready to move in and we said goodbye to the old miner’s cottage once and for all and there was no looking back.

*

* Sent in by Steven Corsa

Strange Happenings at the Hospice

* Sent in by Elise Perch

Working as a nurse for the last 22 years I’ve seen my fair share of spooky experiences that’s for sure.  It used to freak me out when I first started, but nowadays on the wards but nowadays it has become so commonplace that I hardly even think about it.

My first experience was pretty freaky though, and I’ll admit that it frightened the heck out of me at the time.

Working night-shift I was on duty with one of the senior nurses, Marion, and we were in the nurses station.  A crashing sound came from down the hall, like the clattering of metal on metal.  I looked at Marion in shock, but she didn’t bat an eyelid.  I took off up the hallway looking for the cause of the noise.  I found utensils and three stainless steel bowls scattered on the floor, but no one in sight.  I placed the items on the bench, a little perplexed, and made my way to the nurse’s station.  Marion didn’t bother to ask, but I told her what I’d found.  She just smiled at me in a strange way.

Not twenty minutes later, the clattering sound rang out again, and again Marion didn’t flinch but continued on with her knitting.  I followed the noise and found the same utensils on the floor again.  But no one was around.  This time I placed the utensils in the sink so that there would be no way they could ‘slip’ off the bench again.

Imagine my shock when five or so minutes later I heard the clattering and clanging sound yet again.  I just couldn’t believe it.  Marion glanced at me and smiled.  “You may as well get used to it’, she said wryly.

And she was right.  I worked at that hospice for nearly six years and with just about every shift there was some kind of unusual/unnatural occurrence.  I just came to expect it every day.

When I have some more time up my sleeve I’ll send along some more of my experiences over the years.

* Sent in by Elise Perch

The Ghost-Girl in the Grey Cape

* Sent in by Lucy Coles

My parents separated when I was very young, and I’d often fall asleep in my mother’s bed with the lights on because I hated the dark.  Once I was sound asleep, Mum would carry me to my own bed where I’d generally sleep peacefully till morning.

One night though, I woke up to find myself in my own room, in my own bed, in the dark.  The lights were turned off, but somehow I could see a blonde girl, a little older than myself, standing at the foot of my bed.  It was like she was standing under a spotlight or something because I could see her clearly.  But the rest of the room was dark.  She was wearing a cape or something with a grey hood.  As I sat up on bed, rooted to the spot, I watched as the girl simply vanished.  She just faded away to nothing and the light dimmed as she left.  For some reason, although I was shocked, I wasn’t really all that scared.

I thought straight away that she was a ghost, and at 8 years old, I was young enough to assume that seeing ghosts was normal because it wasn’t the first time for me.  I thought that my bedroom was probably once hers.

I came to accept her visits to my room just about every night, and she became a part of my life.  I felt comforted by her nightly visits and found that I slept more soundly on the nights that she came.

We moved out of that house three years later and I was never visited by the girl in the grey cape again.  I’d never told anyone about her, until last year when my family gathered for my mother’s 50th birthday.  Talk drifted to our history and the places we’d lived in.  I piped up and told my story of my visiting ghost-girl.  My Mum just about choked on her tea, and my older sister Kylie turned white, frozen in shock with her mouth open. Once she regained her voice, Kylie went on to tell us that she would encounter the caped girl-ghost in the bathroom every night while brushing her teeth prior to bedtime.

Then Mum chipped in with her own stories of seeing the ghostly-girl in the kitchen every time she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and grab a drink.

We never discovered who the ghost-girl in the grey cape actually was, and the house has since been demolished and units built in its place.  I sometimes wonder if the girl in the grey cape visits the people who live there now, all these years later.

*
Sent in by Lucy Coles

Grandma Eileen

* Sent in by Amii

I always loved it when my Grandma Eileen and Grandpa Doug would visit from the UK each year.  They would always come in the Spring time.  My own parents had honeymooned here in Queensland and never left, so half the family lived here and the other half back in Liverpool.  Every year Grandma Eileen would say how much she wished that she lived closer as the plane trip seemed longer and longer to her aging body.

Spring time always reminds me of the smell of baking cakes, slices, biscuits and scones.  Grandma Eileen was an avid cook and especially enjoyed baking for everyone.

When I was 13 my family moved back to Liverpool to be closer to Grandma and Grandpa as they both needed care.  I dropped in on them everyday after school on my way home and would stay to help eat any freshly-baked biscuits or slices that Grandma had made during the day.  In quick time the smell of baked goods became synonymous with my daily life.

The years passed and everyone got older with time.  I moved out of home and back-packed through Europe and Asia, ending up back in Australia to marry an Aussie guy I’d met on my travels.  I missed my family back in Liverpool, but loved the Aussie sun, beaches and lifestyle.

I came home from work early one afternoon and could smell apple-cinnamon tea cake before I’d even unlocked the front door.  The very smell threw my mind back in time to when I’d be greeted by drifting wafts of all kinds of delectable goods, all care of my Grandma Eileen.
I rushed down the hall to the kitchen, somehow expecting to find Grandma at the bench, baking tray in hand.

Instead, the kitchen was cold and dark, and the delicious smell was instantly gone.  I felt a little bereft and disappointed, although how I could have expected a visit was beyond me, as both she and Grandpa were now in a nursing home and well beyond flight travel age.

I went about my nightly routine, and noticed the light blinking on the answering machine attached to the landline phone on the hallstand.  I pressed the play button to hear my clearly distraught mother tell me that my dear Grandma Eileen had passed over in the last hour.  I quickly rang her back, then made arrangements for flights to the UK to make it in time for Grandma’s funeral.

Stepping back into the kitchen to make myself a quick cup of tea, I was hit with the distinctive smell of muffins with berry sauce.  I stopped and smiled to myself.

“Hello and Goodbye Grandma ....”

*

* Sent in by Amii

Our Unseen Visitor

* Sent in by Kylie S.

One evening while my husband Bradley was out at his weekly bowling game, and my two daughters were asleep in their beds, I was sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine when someone cuffed me on the back of the head.  I just about jumped out of my skin in shock as I looked around to find who it could have been.  But I was totally alone in the room.

Several days later, my eldest daughter Caroline said that someone or something had been in her bedroom, and that she could hear footsteps walking around, but there was no one there.

I knew that Caroline wasn’t one to make up stories, so after this happening three nights in a row, I decided to move her into the spare room, hoping that things would stop.

We’d decided not to tell my youngest daughter Gabby for fear of scaring her, but that didn’t last too long as she was the next to encounter our unseen visitor.

I’d just finished up washing the dinner dishes when Gabby came screaming out of her room, wailing like a siren.  She flew into the kitchen and straight into my arms and blubbered about hearing someone knocking on her desk as she was doing her homework.  She didn’t see anyone, but the knocking was right next to her and she said she could feel the banging on the desk as she sat there.  I reassured her that all was okay, although I wasn’t too sure myself.

I was next in line again, and lying in my bed a few nights later the windchimes hanging above my dressing table started playing all by themselves.  The window was closed and there was no valid reason for their ongoing clanging.  I tried to ignore it, and after 10 minutes or so the chimes stopped just as quickly as they started.

These spooky events went on for another two months or so, until one day we came home to a disgusting stench coming from the kitchen.  I thought something somewhere had gone off, so we searched right through the pantry, cupboards and fridge, but nothing could be found.

A few hours later the smell disappeared and all of the strange happenings seemed to stop along with it.

We never figured out what went on there, but are pleased its never happened again.

*

* Sent in by Kylie S.

Lady Adelaide’s Bedroom

* Sent in by Carly Simpson

When I was in my early twenties I went on a trip with my parents and younger sister Yvonne, to visit family (Aunt Jilly) in countryside England.  Sight-seeing was a main part of our agenda.

Following along with the tourist crowds, we visited a huge old country manor, scantily refurbished and in the process of repair and restoration.

My father decided to take a break, so planted himself on a garden bench while the rest of us proceeded with the tour.

Yvonne, my mother Joan and myself wandered along with the tour group, going from room to room, listening the guide talking about the manor’s ancient history.  But I noticed as we approached different rooms, I was sure I heard voices that instantly stopped the moment the door was opened.  Yvonne said she’d heard them too.  Mum seemed oblivious to what we were hearing it seemed.  I was sure there was some kind of presence around us.

The tour guide threw open the next door down the long hallway, announcing that it had once belonged to Lady Adelaide, and that everything was just as she’d left it all those many years ago.

Yvonne, my mum Joan and I shuffled to take a peek into the room while the rest of the group wandered forward onto the next item of interest.

As I looked into the room I was sure that I saw a flicker of movement in front of the heavily guilded mirror sitting atop the old dresser.  I looked away then looked back quickly and was sure I caught another glimpse.  I could hear a rustling sound, then all of a sudden the wardrobe door flew open.  I wasn’t sure what happened after that because my feet were taking me back down the hallway out the way we came in, then out into the garden in a flash  -  Mum and Yvonne hot on my heels.

Dad sat pop-eyed as we three fled across the lawn towards him.  We didn’t stop to explain, but grabbed his hand on the way past and made our way quickly to the carpark, then back to Aunt Jilly’s, to safety.

I know it sounds silly now, but at the time, we were scared stupid!

*
Sent in by Carly Simpson

FRED THE HOUSE GHOST

* Submitted by Carol Kastelic


I spent the weekend down at my friend Deanna’s place in Belgrave, Victoria early last year, and vowed that I’d never visit her again ... unless she moved house.


She was quite unfazed about the noise in the night and the visitor to my room when we spoke of it after my first night’s stay.  In fact, she pretty much scolded me for being a ‘scaredy-cat’ and told me there was ‘nothing to be afraid of’.


Nothing to be afraid of!!  Rubbish!!


I’d headed off to bed at about 10pm, and within the first ten minutes or so I’d heard footsteps walking towards my bedroom door.  Assuming it was Deanna I’d called out for her to come in, but there was silence.  A moment later the footsteps walked right up to my bed, but I couldn’t see anyone or anything and the door hadn’t opened or closed.  I felt distinctly that someone (or something) was standing right next to where I was lying.  A shiver went right through me and I clicked on the bedside lamp to double-click that I was alone in the room.   There was no one and nothing to be seen.  But still I had an eerie feeling of being watched.


I dreaded to believe that I’d just been hearing things because I was so worn out from my long trip down from Dubbo, so I snapped off the light and snuggled down under the warm doona ready to drift off to sleep.
Next thing I knew I felt something (or someone) sit on the bed near my feet.  I distinctly felt pressure on the bed, and just froze on the spot.  I didn’t want to look  -  I didn’t want to know about it.  I just felt scared stiff  -  beyond scared  -  totally petrified.


I wanted to scream but nothing would come out.  Not only that, but somehow I was too scared to even make a sound, let along scream.  I held my breath instead for what seemed like forever.  Then all of a sudden the pressure released at the foot of the bed and whatever it was got up and walked back out the door  -  or rather  - through the door.


I just lay there frozen on the spot, too scared to move, and by then, too scared to sleep.  I lay awake for what seemed like hours.  


Eventually I summoned the courage to get up out of bed to get myself a drink and go to the loo  -  which I quickly regretted once out in the dark hallway.  I fumbled around searching for the light switch on the wall, but instead something/someone grabbed my hand.  I just about jumped out of my skin and screamed like a banshee.  The light flicked on at the other end of the hallway as Deanna didn’t bat an eyelid.  She told me not to worry about it  - it was just ‘Fred’.  


Fred!??  Yep, Fred  -  her resident ghost!


Apparently he’d been around for years;  and according to her, her next door neighbour knew all about it and had told her that he’d been hanging around for at least 20 years or so.


That didn’t help me at all  -  not one little bit!


We enjoyed our day together, Deanna and I doing touristy things in the Dandenong Ranges, visiting little boutique shops and enjoying a delightful picnic lunch amongst the gum trees and fern trees in the lush green setting of Sherbrook Forest.  At the end of the day though, I was loathe to return to Deanna’s home.  I’d be leaving the following day, but didn’t really look forward spending another night in that house.


Pulling up in the driveway, Deanna sensed my trepidation and assured me yet again that there was nothing to be afraid of.  I didn’t like the idea of another encounter with ‘Fred’, Deanna’s resident ghost, and I hoped the night would pass uneventfully.


All seemed to be going well, and by the time we’d finished dinner I’d relaxed.  I’d almost forgotten about ‘Fred’ as we drank some wine and laughed about old times.


A little tipsy by bedtime I was happy to go off the bed, looking forward to a good night’s sleep.  All seemed to be going to plan and I drifted off without a care in the world.


At around 2am though, I was woken by the sound of someone walking around the room and rifling through my open suitcase.  In my sleepy stupor I assumed it was Deanna looking for something.


I asked her what she was looking for, but got no reply.  All was silent.  I was certain someone was in my room, but couldn’t see anything or anyone.  Then I remembered about ‘Fred’ and felt a sense of dread from head to toe.  I just lay there not wanting to move an inch.


After what seemed like an age, I turned the bedside lamp on.  There was nothing and no one to be seen, but I still felt as though someone was in the room with me.  Just as the thought went through my mind the light beside me snapped off and all was dark again.  The rummaging sound started up again, but rather than becoming scared I actually got quite angry.  I threw back the doona, grabbed my robe and stomped off towards Dee’s room.  There was no way I’d be sleeping in that room.  I’d had enough.


I made Deanna scoot over and got into bed beside her.  She roused briefly and chuckled when I told her that ‘Fred’ had paid me another visit.  I heard faint footsteps walking down the hallway towards Deanna’s room, but decided that I wouldn’t let it bother me this time.  I hunkered down under the warm blankets and promptly fell back to sleep.


If anything else happened that night, I certainly wasn’t aware of it.


The following morning Deanna admitted to me that I’d been sleeping in ‘Fred’s old bedroom.  Great.


I was so glad to leave her house that day, and like I said earlier, I won’t be going back there again as much as I love my friend Deanna.  I just hope she decides to move house soon, or she can come and visit with me instead.

*  Submitted by Carol Kastelic

My Aunty Had a Ghost in her House

My aunty had a ghost in her house that used to bang on the walls and you could hear it walking around at night.  It was pretty creepy and me and my sister never liked staying at her place when we were kids.  It never bothered her though and she said that she felt that the ghost was care-taking the house when she was out, because she never got broken into or anything like that, and she lived in a pretty rough area of town.  She believed it was the ghost of the old lady that had lived in the house before her.



When me and my sister used to stay there on the holidays sometimes we used to hear footsteps in our room at night and sometimes in the kitchen you could hear the drawers open and close and sometimes the cupboards would open and close on their own.

*
Contributed by Terri Cason

ELLA’S DAILY VISITOR

By Anne-Marie Weller

Some years ago now I was working as a carer for an elderly lady named Ella.  Ella was a lady in her early 80’s, and was sprightly, cheery and bright.  She was a delight to work for.  I’d visit her twice a week to help out with domestic duties and to ensure that she was eating regularly and doing well health-wise.


Upon my second visit, I was washing up some dishes in the kitchen when I heard Ella greeting someone in her lounge-room.  I hadn’t heard either the front or back doors open, so wondered who she was speaking to.  I made my way into the room where Ella was knitting up squares to sew together as blankets for children in third-world countries.  She sat serenely with a soft smile on her lips.  I asked her who she’d been speaking to and with a cheeky grin she said, “Gerry ... my husband.  He drops in everyday to visit with me.”  I quickly glanced around the room but there was no one to be seen.  I was a little baffled so just smiled at Ella and went back to washing the dishes.


Once back at the sink I heard Ella say softly, “she can’t see you remember ...”  She then let out a low chuckle, and I simply let it slide and went on to dry and stack the dishes away.  I thought no more of it and left soon after.


The following Tuesday Ella greeted me at the door with a smile and let me in.  After chatting for 5 minutes or so I went off to do my chores.  A little later I walked past the loungeroom doorway to hang out Ella’s washing and heard and saw her merrily chatting away to the recliner next to her.  I paused briefly as she continued talking to the chair, then felt a little self-conscious so scurried off outside.  I wondered if maybe Ella was going a little senile and felt sorry for her.


Over the following weeks every time I went to Ella’s I’d catch her talking to no one ... or at least I thought it was no one.  I ended up speaking to the supervisor at the agency I worked for.  Surprisingly to me, she knew all about it and went on to tell me that the ‘Gerry’ Ella was always talking to was her husband who’d passed away over 10 years ago.  Ella had been having conversations with him ever since and all of her carers over the years had witnessed it.  Well at least that explained it ... sort of.


Back at Ella’s the following week I walked into the loungeroom and sat down next to her, taking a breather between chores.  Suddenly I heard a man’s voice clear as a bell, right next to my ear, saying “Hi Anne-Marie”.  I just about jumped out of my skin and felt goose-bumps spread up my arms and down my back.  I looked around wildly but no one else was in the room but me and Ella.  Ella laughed out loud and lay her hand on my knee.  “Don’t fret dear,” she said “it’s just Gerry saying hello.”  She smiled sweetly as though there was nothing at all odd about a voice coming out of nowhere.  I didn’t know where to look, what to say or what to do.  I quickly got up and went back to my chores, feeling more than a little uncomfortable and jittery for the rest of the afternoon, and it kept playing on my mind the rest of the night and beyond.


I didn’t really want to work for Ella after that day, eventhough she was a lovely lady.  I went there out of a sense of obligation, but I was never comfortable in her house after that.  I tried to put it out of my mind whenever I went there, but it always creeped me out every time I heard her chatting away to ‘Gerry’.  I tried to stay out of the loungeroon as much as possible and just tried to ignore it as best I could.


One afternoon my husband came home to tell me that he got the promotion he’d been after.  It would mean that we had to move to another town, but after working at Ella’s over the months I was ready for a change.


I informed the agency and Ella the following day and put in my resignation.  Ella said she’d be sad to see me go, but understood and was pleased about my husband’s promotion.  The following Tuesday would be my final day working at Ella’s place.


I arrived early to make sure that everything was in order and to spend a little time with Ella before leaving for good.  10 minutes or so after greeting Ella at the door I was walking down the hallway, washing basket in hand, and saw a man walk past making his way into the loungeroom.  He went and sat down right next to Ella on the recliner beside her.  She looked at him and smiled, then leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Hello Gerry’ she said.


I just stood there staring as the man slowly vanished right in front of my eyes although  Ella continued chatting away to him.  I dropped the washing basket on the spot and the next thing I knew I was in my car, backing out the driveway as quickly as I could.


I never went back to Ella’s house and we moved away three days later.  I haven’t had any experiences like that since, but I’ve never forgotten it.


*

The Lamashtu

By Lillian K. Staats

I continue to think of ghost stories, but these others I have are not so comforting, in fact one was so frightening it changed my life.


The year that I turned 19, 1979, I had a job cleaning the largest private dwelling in Alaska. It was still under construction, but it was monumental, with vast outward jutting windows that looked onto Rocky Lake near Big Lake.


My tasks were simple and required little thought, just labor; washing clothes and bedding by hand,(there were no washers), cleaning up after construction crews, cooking, that sort of thing. My boss was Dana Sutherland, and, like a few men at that time, he wanted me in his bed. I was absolutely not going to do that, for anything, and to this day, I'd never had sex to get or keep a job. Like my neighbor Gene says... so you just give it away. Sigh, (not to you, you Bastard, I thought).


 I divulge. At any rate, this boss was snowed in at Anchorage, and couldn't get back. I loved it! The snow fell record feet that winter, and I felt safe in my snow cocoon, along with the five Doberman Pinchers, one being my puppy Inca.


This was a working holiday; I washed all the bedclothes, swept, mopped, etc. I stayed up quite late, reading in Dana's palatial bed, (my bed was a cot), and I'd change the sheets again.


Now, as a young woman, I had no form of religion, and was open to almost anything- eastern religion, yoga, herbology, Tarot cards, Urantia, what have you. But, for some reason, upon entering that house, I would not touch anything to do with the occult, and there were rows and rows of occult books. Then I found the black candles in a box by Dana's bed. I was not afraid, I was wary, and did not touch them.


 I found it hard to go to sleep that night, so it was four in the morning when I finally dozed off, or more correctly, closed my eyes, and could not move, though I could see the room perfectly, albeit grainy, like a bad film.


 To my left hand side was a double pane Pella window, and a creature, like smoke and....clear flesh, assumed a position in front of me, and (sifted?) down into form. It was a leopards body, a lion's head, wildly streaming hair, and bared breasts. 


I said,"I love God, God loves me, In the name of Jesus Christ begone from this house". I knew inately that it was a she, she was ancient, Egyptian, and a she-devil. 


Another thing- I had NEVER called on Christ in my life, but there were those words. She reluctantly gathered herself together, and departed exactly how she arrived. Why spirits would need windows is beyond me..


 Well, young people are resiliant, and altho my sweat made a sillouette on the sheets, I laughed everything off best I could and went to sleep.


 The next morning I fed the dogs, had tea, thought nothing of it. Just to get it out of the way, I was a health nut, and rarely drank, and rarely did any naughty thing to my body, and this was the case at the time, so all this happened stone cold sober as it were.


 Any way, as the day progressed, I'd find myself walking toward the occult bookshelf. I'd, as if in a daze, reach out my hand, pull a book out, and open it. Then I'd feel, this isn't the right book. Well, that's just very odd, and it happened twice. 


On the third try, I knelt down and my left hand went out to the shelf, second from the bottom, I pulled a book out, and opened it up the the very page. On the left hand side, second from the bottom it said this:

Lamishtu or Lamashtu;  an ancient she-devil, fierce and bloodthirsty, Egyptian. A leopard's body, a lion's head, wildly streaming hair, and bared breasts.

 Suffice to say, I stuffed garlic in my pockets, (forgetting that was for vampires), clutched a Bible, and ran to my best friends, Nick and Sheila, two and a half miles away, in the dark. Haha! 



Lily

The Lights Turned On By Themselves ....

By Lillian K. Staats

I have a short ghost story that happened last winter;

Most people that know me consider me a fool, but a really kind and giving fool. I'll have to accept that as a good thing, and I think I'm at peace with that. After all, where would we be without the fools of the world?
 However, for a fool, I'm quite logical, and prefer logical explanations for why things happen- but sometimes there isn't one!

I've lived in the same house for over twenty years, a little hobbit house, brightly colored, and to me, the sweetest place on earth. It's surrounded by hundreds of acres of woods, and fields, and I feel very blessed.


 At any rate, as I grow older, it's harder to sleep thru the night, and sometimes I take refuge in the bible, or a good book. This particular night, well, three something in the morning, I was doing just that. Well, I'd set the bible down, I was getting sleepy, and I was just throwing out a few last errant prayers for friends and folks, when the light in my bedroom, and both lights in my livingroom went on.


There was only one problem with this. As I went to check the light switches, I kew what I'd find. Yes. They were all OFF. The lights were on, but all the switches were OFF! The lights stayed that way for several minutes, not seconds, as I bemused, and sleepy, made the rounds of the light switches, murmuring all the while. Oddly, I heard a low humming overheard as they had gone on. Not being an overly hysterical person, I decided to sleep on it.


 The next morning I called MEA, our power company, here in Wasilla, Alaska. I asked the fella, say, did we have a power surge around three A.M.? "No Maam." Ah. 


Well, I told him what happened, and he said it might be I have old style mercury light switches, they might have all disfunctioned at the same time.


I've been living here a long time. Those lights have NEVER "disfunctioned" before or since!


Lily

The Ghost At The Savoy

By Lillian K. Staats


I just read the story of the haunted black closet, and it reminded me of my 1985 trip to England. I was lucky enough to afford a few nights at the Savoy in London, They showed me into a compact but lovely room, and a bathroom with marble steps up to it. I was charmed, but very tired from the flight. I decided to take a nap.


I woke out of a sound sleep to water going full bore. I went into the bathroom where the shower was going: a large stainless steel plate with about fifty holes served as the nozzle. It was hot water. I was not afraid... more bemused. I turned the water off, and went back to the bed to finish my nap.


About forty minutes later, the same thing happened. Again, I shut it off.


The next day, the window opened, by itself. Now, this is important, because the window was closed with a rail of steel with holes that corresponded to nubs on the ledge. Also, the window was locked.


I never felt afraid... I had the sense that it was a male ghost from the 1800’s and that he was a bit of a playboy. I have a few more ghost stories, but I love this one most. I was pretty and young then, and anything could happen, and usually did!

*  Lily

WE HAD A GHOST IN OUR HOUSE

As told by Prue


Kenny and I hadn’t been in town that long when I met Sandy at the local Daycare centre.  She lived a couple of doors down from us, and although we hadn’t been formerly introduced, I recognised her having seen her in her front yard when were unpacking two weeks ago when we were finally moving into our very first home as husband and wife.


Sandy didn’t bother with any formalities.  “So, you’re the new people on the block yeah?”  Sandy asked/stated.  “Have you met the ghost yet or what?” she continued.


I stood there perplexed, not knowing what she was talking about.  Sandy looked at me in exasperation and repeated her question/statement.  “The ghost.  Have you met him yet or what?  I shook my head ‘no’, not really sure what she was talking about.  


I thought no more of it as I made my way home where I found Kenny on the couch in front of the TV.  “Hey, I thought you came home earlier,” Kenny said as I came down the hallway.  I stopped and looked at him, mid-way to the kitchen.  “I thought you came home earlier because I heard some noise coming from the bathroom, but when I went to check you weren’t there." I just looked at him a little strangely and went on to unpack my groceries.


A few days later I was home cooking Kenny’s favourite meal, when I was sure I heard the shower running.  I stood still on the spot listening, but the noise of running water had stopped as abruptly as it has started.  I figured I’d just imagined it, so went back to peeling the potatoes, but a couple of minutes later I heard it start up again.  I went to check and found the hot water tap turned on full bore in the shower, but no one was there and I was the only one home.  I started to feel freaked-out and really didn’t want to be there by myself.  I remembered what our neighbour Sandy had said about the ‘ghost’ and shuddered at the thought.   I didn’t even want to consider it.


I had to come to grips with it though because over the next 3 years that we lived in that house lots of little things happen.  I say little things because it was never really scary or earth-shattering stuff that went on, but enough to know that the ‘ghost’ was definitely around.


* The shower turned itself on and off quite often.


* I’d come home from work to find the contents of the pantry in the fridge.


* Sometimes I would find the loungeroom windows open, knowing I’d closed and locked them before going to work.


* Lights coming on at night and turning themselves off again.


* Stereo and TV would turn on and off.


* Clothes from the laundry would be found in the kitchen and kitchen utensils in the bathroom.


* Photos frames being moving around on the mantel every few days.


* Keys, mobile phone, ipod and things like that would go missing and turn up in stupid/unlikely places.


* Strange cooking/food smells but no source.


These are just a few of the things that took place while we lived in the house.  After a while I wasn’t really scared, but annoyed more than anything.  It never bothered Kenny, but I never felt comfortable in the house and was glad to finally move out.  

*As told by Prue

The Fitzgerald House

As told by Alyshia

When I was 11, my dad told us we were moving.  When I found out which house Dad had bought I was totally mortified!  It was the old ‘Fitzgerald’ house and it was where a man (Mr Fitzgerald) had committed suicide about 6 years earlier.  I didn’t remember it myself (being so young at the time) but we lived in a small town so it was local knowledge.  No way did I want to live in that house.  And I knew my friends wouldn’t want to have sleep-overs with me anymore.  I pleaded with Mum and Dad not to move there, but too late  -  the deal was done.  And I dreaded it.

I felt uncomfortable in that house from the moment we moved in, and strangely enough I started enjoying school more.  Anything was better than being in that house.  I’d even taken up after-school sports because I didn’t want to be home alone before Mum and Dad got home from work  -  and I hated sports!

On the fifth night after we’d moved in I woke up to sounds coming from the kitchen.  I didn’t think much of it at the time and just figured it was either Mum or Dad getting themselves a snack or drink or something.

The next morning at breakfast Mum asked me what I’d been doing in the kitchen the night before.  I felt a chill go right through me and said that I’d thought it had been her or Dad.  She just looked at me perplexed, but I felt scared.  If it wasn’t Mum or Dad, and it wasn’t me in the kitchen last night, then who (or what) was it?

A few nights later I was woken by the sound of drawers sliding open and cutlery rattling, again coming from the kitchen.  I lay dead-still and listened.  I heard footsteps walking around and tried to tell myself it was just Mum or Dad, thirsty or hungry.  I shut my eyes tightly and tried to ignore the sounds and go back to sleep, telling myself all was ok.

I heard the footsteps get louder and louder and nearer and nearer and scrunched myself up under the doona.  My door opened.  The footsteps came right up to my bed.  I lay as still as I possibly could, huddled under the covers.  All of a sudden something poked me and I jumped and screamed.  Mixed with my scream was Mum’s.  I’d given her a fright almost as much as she had me.   She snapped on the light and I wrenched the covers off my head. 

“Was that you in the kitchen?” Mum asked in hushed tones. 
“No, I’ve been here in bed ... I thought it was you” I replied.

We looked bleakly at each other.  Heavy footsteps were coming towards my room.  Mum and I just stared at each other, holding our breath, frozen in fear.  Dad swung open the door and we relaxed momentarily.  He looked at us both in confusion.
“What’s the screaming about?”  he asked, looking from me to Mum and back again.
“We just gave each other a fright” Mum replied. Dad shrugged his shoulders and went back to bed.  Mum leaned in and hugged and kissed me, then silently made her way back to her room without another word.

It was quiet for a few nights until the end of the following week.  Then the footsteps and clattering cutlery would happen for a night or so, then all would be quiet again for nearly a week.  After a month or so I noticed that a bit of a pattern started to take shape.  It seemed every Thursday or Friday and Sunday nights the noise would come from the kitchen for an hour or so, generally between 2 and 4am. 

Nothing else ever happened ... nothing ever went missing and no one ever saw or heard anything else.  Just the noise and footsteps in the kitchen.  It seemed harmless enough and with time we just learned to live with it. We stayed in that old house for seven years before Mum and Dad sold up and we moved on. 

The old Fitzgerald house is still there and a young family lives in it today I believe, but I don’t know if the weekly kitchen clatter still goes on, and I don’t really want to.  I haven’t experienced anything like that since, and I don’t want to ever again.

*