Spooky stories from your life?

[JToede]

Soldiers out in the woods doing Soldierly things. Let's see what happens when we do this particularly nefarious and/or dangerous thing. (I'm guilty of stuff like this as well)

Some 60 years ago, I and two other young soldiers discovered an abandoned cemetery, in deep woods on our post,,,, and soon made plans to learn more. Armed with a lantern and shovels we had liberated from a construction site on post, we made our way to the cemetery and soon found an old grave from 1918 and got busy. It was not a stormy night, but it was dark. There was some wind, and nature prided us with a hoot owl. Soldiers can dig as well as shoot, and it only took about two spooky hours to hit and clean off a very heavy concrete covering. We couldn't budge it. One of us mentioned that 1918 was a year shy of the Spanish Flu pandemic. We left, returned our purloined gear, and never visited those woods again.

[Galen]

Some 60 years ago, I and two other young soldiers discovered an abandoned cemetery, in deep woods on our post,,,, and soon made plans to learn more. Armed with a lantern and shovels we had liberated from a construction site on post, we made our way to the cemetery and soon found an old grave from 1918 and got busy. It was not a stormy night, but it was dark. There was some wind, and nature prided us with a hoot owl. Soldiers can dig as well as shoot, and it only took about two spooky hours to hit and clean off a very heavy concrete covering. We couldn't budge it. One of us mentioned that 1918 was a year shy of the Spanish Flu pandemic. We left, returned our purloined gear, and never visited those woods again.

Not only is that quite a crazy experience to have, but I'm pretty sure that's the start of numerous horror stories. Or at least an episode of the x files. Love it. XD

I imagine you have a ton of interesting stories to share.

[dongregg]

Yeah I do. Galen. many of them expanded or embroidered in my fan-fic, Set Me As a Seal upon Your Heart. You'll no doubt get an idea from my proposed obituary:

"There is only one reality: the act of feeling ourselves in the process of
making choices."

Erich Fromm

Oh how my life validates Fromm's words! In small and large ways I have
hurled myself into change. *
In big ways, such as living in Manhattan and in Berkeley, in San
Francisco and in the mountains of Mendocino. Always with the exhilarating feeling
that "I chose this."

Choosing spiritual paths, such as Buddhism and high church Anglican forms
of worship, making a joyful noise unto the Lord.

Going all in with love, romance.

Drugs-injecting heroin and morphine, "What is it this time, Holmes,
morphine or cocaine?"
A comfortable period of drinking estate-bottled cognac, single-malt
whisky, fine European wines, beers of the world.

Choosing to be an Army skydiver, hurling myself into 12,000 feet of thin air,
swan diving from the plane and hurtling toward the ground at 120 miles an
hour.

Traveling in Korea and Japan alone, drowning in the Imperial Forest in
Tokyo beneath an ocean of shrilling cicadas.

Feeling at times that I fit in nowhere, at other times that I belonged
wherever I was.

Like now. In what others may see as diminished health and straitened
circumstances, I see that I am where I'm supposed to be. And that I am me,
a "me" who embodies the effects of everything I've loved, felt, done, read,
or dreamed.

***
Thus at 79, I wish I had a trove of spooky tales, not just those wherein I felt spooky.