Everyone, it seems, loves a good ghost story. Young or old, we all like to be scared or creeped out. As paranormal investigators we’ve all got more tales than the average Jane and Joe.
When people ask me, “Have you ever seen a ghost?” I tell them, “Yes.” They then usually ask, “Was it scary,” and I have to say, “actually it wasn’t, because I thought it was a real person…until I realized none of the members in our party were wearing white…and none of us had a big bow in our hair…and none were wearing a dress.”
My tale is just one of many similar encounters. People often say things like, “I thought it was a real person, until…”
And it’s the “untils” where the story turns creepy: until she walked into the closet, until I noticed he was hovering above the floor, until she just faded away. There are some seriously creepy “untils” out there.
So SciMinds decided to create a whole category of blog posts detailing true ghost stories. Eventually we may even invite some guest bloggers to post their personal or favorite true ghost stories or post some of the stories which have been relayed to us from users of our Spirit Story Box* app.
I’ll kick off this series by telling the story of the scariest, paranormal encounter I can remember. It’s a difficult choice. There are several stories I could tell, but I’m going to pick this one.
The Most Scared I’ve Ever Been
For roughly 14 years I lived in a haunted house, six years of which I lived alone. It was the first house on the street, and it was the model for the neighborhood. No one died in the house, and no one, to my knowledge, died on the property.
One would think that would make it low-risk in terms of being a haunted location, but such was not the case. It was off-the-charts-haunted. It made a believer out of me.
I’m a Bible College graduate who was intrigued by the paranormal, but afraid to “mess” with such things. I never invited the spirits in any way. I told the spirits to leave. They didn’t.
Virtually everyone in the house experienced some terrifying event. This was mine.
My step-daughter was visiting her father for the weekend. She had a simple stereo in the back corner of her room beyond her bed.
She was usually a pretty neat individual, but for some reason her room at the time was a pit, with clothes strewn all about.
About 3:00 am (I wish I remembered the exact time), her stereo came on full blast. My ex-wife’s and my room was right next door and it scared the crap out of me. It was scary for a number of reasons:
- When you’re deep asleep and hear loud noises, it’s not very easy to know what’s going on.
- I just heard loud music and had no idea where it was coming from.
- My step-daughter never listened to her stereo at that volume.
- The stereo just came on by itself.
- The lyrics of the song, which I will get to in a moment, were downright horrible.
I leapt out of bed and walked quickly toward the sound, not knowing if I needed to defend my family from some intruder. I opened the door, and her room was black as pitch with just the light from the stereo piercing the darkness.
I Hate You So Much Right Now!
When I opened her door I was “greeted” with the sounds of a man screaming from the radio, “I hate you so much right now. I hate you so much right now. I hate you so much right now.” Over and over he screamed the same thing. Googling the lyrics, I later learned the song is Shawn Jay’s “I Hate You.”
It was absolutely terrifying. There was no light switch I could easily reach. I had to stumble my way around her bed, over her clothes and whatever else was on the floor, back to her stereo in the corner to try and find the switch to turn it off. My heart was beating so hard; it felt like it was in the back of my throat.
It seemed like those lyrics were directed at me. I felt a palpable evil presence in that room. The adrenaline surge caused me to shake when I finally calmed down.
Months later the door to my step-daughter’s closet flew off its hinges while she was alone. She sat on the front porch until we came home, too afraid to go back in the house. Whatever lived there in that room seemed to relish the idea of scaring and isolating us.
There are many, many more stories I can tell about that house and will at a later date. It is the reason I decided to become a paranormal investigator.
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