Spooky stories from your life?

[Galen]

I was thinking, since John Ajvide Lindqvist writes horror, does anyone here have any horror-like or supernatural stories from their own lives they’d like to share?

These events from my past recently came to mind for some reason, so I figured I’d write it down and share. I can’t say it has anything too supernatural, scary, or that it's even necessarily interesting, but for a young, gullible me, it was. So be warned, you may be bored.

There’s a cemetery not far from where I went to school in New York that one of my classmates, Chris, introduced me to. He called it Pinewoods, but I think the real name is Forest Park Cemetery. It was smaller than the other large ones in the city. Creepy, old, and gated off -- closed to any visitors officially. He told me and the others in our little group about a bunch of stories surrounding the place.

The locals called it “one of the seven gateways to hell”, and that all sorts of crazy stuff went down there. Satanic rituals by cultists, suicides, bleeding statues, etc. There even used to be a small website dedicated to it detailing things that some of the people nearby supposedly saw -- werewolves, ghosts, and the like in the surrounding areas, which are all heavily wooded. Total nonsense, but the locals were definitely freaked out about this little cemetery.

Chris brought me and two others there once, just driving by after a trip to a grocery store late at night, but we didn’t go in. There was a car parked outside -- an older one that looked pretty beat up -- and we didn’t want to chance finding any crazy people inside a forested, overgrown haunted cemetery in pitch blackness.

We came back a week later, just me and him, toward the end of the day after classes since I had pestered him about it day after day. I was pretty heavily into supernatural stuff -- not ghosts specifically, but the genre. It was close to Halloween, which made it on the forefront of my mind.

Anyway, we got there, and since nobody else was there, we parked out front of the gate (there is no parking lot) and walked around the locked elaborate gate, passed some no trespassing signs, which scared the crap out of younger me -- always afraid to do anything illegal. He gave me a bokken (a wooden japanese sword) from his trunk, and took one himself -- he was taking kendo lessons at the time. I guess he was expecting trouble, or was just nervous about it, and I guess it made me feel a little safer to have a weapon of some kind.

We wandered around for a bit -- looking at the old gravestones. Most of them from the early 1900s, but very few in total. The closer to the road we were, the safer I felt. He was far braver than I -- in general -- but it was also helpful he lived in the area for so long, and had been there before. He led me in deeper -- on the winding pathways through the overgrowth toward a structure I saw deep in the forest.

While we walked through the paths leading in deeper, we both heard what we could only say were unnatural noises making us uncomfortable. The best way I can describe them was a guttural groaning that made me feel sick to my stomach. He heard it, too.

There were so many trees, and they were so tall, criss-crossing over the sky and keeping much of the sunlight out. You could hear the trees knocking and rubbing against each other in the wind, and we thought that was what the noise was, but every time we heard it, it just sounded... different, I don’t know. Like, we’d hear it, but not really -- it was far away, but in our heads at the same time. Then it was gone, and we questioned whether we were imagining things. Then we heard the tree branches rubbing against each other, and we assumed that’s what we heard, even though we could pinpoint that noise easily. Then we heard the groaning again, only a little louder -- it really seemed to correspond with how deep we got into the cemetery.

We got to the stone structure -- a defunct, dilapidated mausoleum, with a bunch of graffiti on the interior wall, and it actually made me feel safer. There were spraypaint pentagrams, angry messages from other teenagers, a nazi symbol, just stuff from other kids like us trying to rile people up. It made it feel far less supernatural there.

What made it a bit scarier, was that we saw a nasty looking sleeping bag in the mausoleum, and some other evidence that people camped there occasionally. Not beer bottles, surprisingly, but like, evidence people had started fires in there. So if there weren’t ghosts, there could be crazy people, and I think that was a little scarier to me.

We continued on, out of the mausoleum, and deeper into the cemetery -- or into the forest really, since there were seemingly no more gravestones anymore. Regardless, we continued around a winding path then up a hill. We must have been a hundred meters or so from the mausoleum, which was probably a hundred meters from the gate, and it felt like miles because of how hard it was to see. You could just barely make out some of the stone structure of the mausoleum, and certainly couldn’t see the road. From the top of the hill, you just saw a vast forest in all directions.

At the top of the hill were several more graves and statues, the most prominent one being a large female angel statue with its arms and head chopped off. That was the statue that supposedly bled sometimes.

Scattered in the area were more sleeping bags, piles of rocks and sticks, old nasty clothing, and a blanket that was wrapped neatly and extremely tightly around something -- almost like a mummification. That thing appeared to be shaped like a small body -- unnaturally small, like, three feet long, but only six inches wide or so, so not truly human looking (luckily). We were considering looking in it, to see if we ought to alert authorities, when we heard what we thought sounded like a baby crying in the distance -- just typing this makes me shiver because I remember the sound.

The moment we heard that noise, we heard a loud sudden rustling in the bushes toward the bottom of the hill we were on, and we turned to it -- assuming it was a deer, since those were super common in the area. The noise stopped, and gave us a moment to chat, both of us nervous.

The noise of the baby crying was gone -- it had only been there for a split second, and we didn’t agree on it -- Chris thought it sounded more like a woman screaming in the distance. We both heard and saw the bushes rustling though, but that had also stopped. Then we heard the rustling again and it was significantly closer to us than before -- deer run away from you, not toward you. We both turned to each other and said that we should probably get out of there, and immediately ran back down the path, hearing the rustling behind us for a good fifty feet or so, but it eventually seemed to leave us alone. We got to the mausoleum and caught our breath by just walking quickly the rest of the way out.

When we got to the gate, there was another car there - an older hatchback, and the occupants were still in it, glaring at us. Just college kids. They sped off, but it was pretty strange for them to not even say a word to us. We wondered briefly if someone from their crew was in the forest chasing us, but they'd just left without them if so.

We jumped in his car and went back to the dorms.

A couple of weeks later I brought my girlfriend to explore since she was into creepy, supernatural stuff, too. Just me and her. It was a mostly overcast morning -- just a bit of daylight getting through the autumn clouds, damp from rain the night before. I did my best to retrace Chris’ steps, and it was surprisingly easy to do so. We eventually found all of the sights.

While we walked through there, she noticed something, being the incredibly observant type, especially regarding nature. Outside of the cemetery, the birds were incredibly active and vibrant -- it was a very pretty area to be honest. Inside the cemetery -- nothing. No birds, no sound at all except for the trees scraping against each other. There was no other wildlife either -- like no chipmunks, squirrels which were everywhere else up in that part of the country, if you went hiking; not even any bugs. The only thing we came across was a single dead crow at the bottom of a tree, which looked fresh, and the occasional white moth that would spring up when we walked past something. Of course, she mentioned how white moths were said to represent spirits.

The whole time, she snapped pictures of the area -- getting some extra use out of coming here for her photography class. Pictures of graves that looked open and disturbed, the mausoleum, the trees, just everything. We’d read some nonsense earlier about the idea that spirits could follow you home if you invade their area, and especially if you take their picture, at least without saying the “proper” words. I started reciting some of them. Things like “thank you for letting us take your picture,” “good bye,” “please stay here, we won’t disturb you.” Pretty embarrassing really, but we were terrified kids.

As we made our way through the forest, I noticed a lot of the clothing and sleeping bags had been moved about, but were still there. Gross really. The mummy thing was gone, thankfully, if creepy.

When we got to the top of the hill and saw the decapitated angel statue, we heard rustling in the bushes behind the hill. While it freaked us out, we immediately saw what made them -- a solitary Canadian Goose. It looked lost since it wasn’t with a larger flock like they always traveled, and wandered toward us. We just laughed -- nervously. She snapped some photos of the statue and the moment she did, we both started hearing the groaning sounds. We turned to each other, confirmed we each heard them, and immediately ran back down the hill on the path.

We got out without any issues, hopped in my car, and sped off without any further incidents.

When we looked through the photos she took, they were all filled with orbs. Some photos had a single large orb -- positioned conveniently in the center of a grave. Some had multiple orbs floating about. I assume they were from dust or moisture, but boy was it freaky at the time. All the shows about ghosts talked about orbs in photos, and it all seemed too convenient considering she’d never had those show up before, regardless of being in a cemetery or a forested hiking trail or wherever.

You can find the cemetery on google by searching “Forest Park Cemetery Troy NY”. Someone’s uploaded pictures of the angel statue I mentioned. From what I can tell, all the photos there are after a huge clean up the city did after there were too many police reports of kids in the cemetery. They cut down a good 50% of the trees, cleared out all the overgrowth, and seem to mow it regularly now. I wish I could find the photos from when I visited and share, but I don’t have them, and they weren’t backed up online at all I don’t think.

Anyways, that’s all!

[gkmoberg1]

That is much better than anything I have to offer. You have some scary moments there too.

Growing up, I was in several musical and opera productions. The roles varied from helping with creating the sets to being on stage as background characters. I was a kid and it was good sometimes to have a couple street urchins, for example, to help fill out a market square scene.

The productions were at the main theater in downtown Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The Fulton Theatre (https://thefulton.org/theatre/) is within a few blocks of the very center of Lancaster. The site has a long and, at parts, sad history. And stories of ghosts. We all knew the ghost stories after a while. There were stories of ghosts who might be sitting quietly and watching a rehearsal. What might give them away, we were told, was they might get up and walk the aisle to the back, but use the center aisle that was taken away decades ago. If you go to https://thefulton.org/theatre/history/ and scroll down to the picture next to the 1962 blurb, you'll see that the ground floor seating has no center aisle. Yet that removed center aisle was the one ghosts might yet favor to use when they got up.

There was also a basement. As kids, we were through the basement all the time. From the front of the theater, there was a steep staircase behind what looked like a service door. It let sharply down to a wretched men's bathroom and a set of open rooms just under the front hall of the theater. The place could sometimes be cluttered and always smelled a bit. And there was locked area, which I was only ever in once. I was told that the floor and base of the wall foundations of the locked area were of the cell where the natives were held during the massacre that happened at the site long before the theater was built. The room just felt bad to me. We never went in there and didn't mind that the door to it was locked. In fact, were the door to be open when I went down there, I would right away leave. To at least me, there was something disturbing about that room and I didn't want to be anywhere near it.

There was also a low passageway in the basement that led from the front of the house to the back. It came right down the middle of the theater, but underneath. It was certainly less than two meters high, but as a kid, I might remember it wrong. Off to each side were tons of old sets. They were all folded up and crammed under the floorboards for the first audience level, and for pretty obvious reasons we (as kids) were not allowed to get into any of them. Probably a really good idea.

The passageway came through to the back of the theater by way of a door that opened into the Green Room. This room was directly under the stage. The trap doors on the stage floor were, then, in the ceiling of this room. I never got to see them in use; that would have been exciting. And just beyond the Green Room (still moving away from the front the theater) was the old back wall of the theater. The same wall had been the wall of the jail that had been at the site before the theater. So that massacre would have involved this area too, as it would have been the open area within the jail yard. Yet, somehow I always felt safe in the Green Room. Kids are strange. No ghosts there for me to worry about.

Also, if you go back to https://thefulton.org/theatre/history/ and scroll down to "1962", in that picture you can see there are two balconies. The upper one we called the peanut gallery. And in my years as a kid at the Fulton (which was _after_ 1962) that upper area was a dark, steep seating area. What's confusing at this point is that I need to point out the picture next to the "1962" blurb is _not_ from 1962 but from much later in time. That picture might be from the 80s or later. Back in the 60s and 70s (and likely for a couple decades before then) the upper balcony was a steep area where the seats were simply dark wooden row benches. You had to be super careful on the steps up there and the pitch was so severe it'd give you a fright from the top just in looking down towards the stage. Naturally we were not (as kids) allowed to be up there. There were stories of yet more ghosts. And there were light towers and tons of cables. It had not been used as a seating area for a long time at the point when I was goofing around up there. As well, the access to that area was "special". See, if you go to https://thefulton.org/theatre/ and look at the picture of the front of the theatre, with its cars zooming past, look at the set of doors at the far end of each side of the front. The far left set of doors and the far right set of doors. I mean the two sets of doors under the "Little Shop of Horrors" marcee signs. These two sets of doors, far off to each side, were the entrance/exit stair cases to the peanut gallery. They led up to the second balcony and only to there. I was not around for the era of segregation, but suddenly you might understand what was going on. It certainly wasn't right. When I was a child I had no idea why it was called "the peanut gallery" but that label's undertones don't sit well with me now.

Did I ever see a ghost? Nope. I sure wish I had. I was well behaved in my time there and I am glad I got to see it, as it existed then.

[Siggdalos]

The area where I live has a lot of interesting old folklore with various degrees of spookiness, but sadly I don't have any personal experiences to share off the top of my head.
The closest thing that comes to mind is that a childhood friend of mine once claimed that they'd woken up in the middle of the night and seen a ghost standing next to their bed.
I didn't buy it.
I don't remember the details of what they said, but thinking back on it, it was probably just sleep paralysis.

[Galen]

There were stories of ghosts who might be sitting quietly and watching a rehearsal. What might give them away, we were told, was they might get up and walk the aisle to the back, but use the center aisle that was taken away decades ago.

That's a fun, creepy mental image. Theaters are so crazy -- I never had a chance to really explore any really old ones, so all these extra storage rooms, passageways, trap doors and the like are super interesting. I can see why they make great backdrops for a lot of ghostly stories. Very cool place, very grim history though, too... good inspiration maybe.

The Northeastern US has so much history there, nice architecture, these fantastic buildings and downtown areas which hopefully stay well preserved. It's strange, they often need to revitalize a lot of these areas in order to keep money coming in, just so they can preserve them. Careful balancing act.

And yeah, I completely relate to that idea that, as a kid, you do just find ways to consider one area safe when something elsewhere is creeping you out for some reason. I had that experience in my own house growing up with a root cellar in the basement.

The area where I live has a lot of interesting old folklore with various degrees of spookiness,[...]

It'd be fun to hear some more about this, I know I'm completely unfamiliar with Swedish folklore and mythilogical creatures, at least outside of whatever has been adapted to mainstream fantasy genres. So hearing about it from someone from the area, how it's told traditionally there sounds really interesting... to me at least.

[Siggdalos]

It'd be fun to hear some more about this, I know I'm completely unfamiliar with Swedish folklore and mythilogical creatures, at least outside of whatever has been adapted to mainstream fantasy genres. So hearing about it from someone from the area, how it's told traditionally there sounds really interesting... to me at least.

Vaesen by Johan Egerkrans is a great introduction to the subject, as well as one of my favorite books by one of my favorite illustrators in general. Admittedly I'm a lot more familiar with the nationwide folklore than I am with the local stuff that's specific to where I live, but the local area has a project dedicated to preserving the oral traditions and promoting them to tourists.

[JToede]

I grew up across the street from a cemetery, I actually worked for them for a summer cutting grass, a few of the neighborhood kids said they saw a guy on the roof of the storage building with red glowing eyes, considering the source I took it with a (very big) grain of salt. . The local newspaper had an article about spooking Halloween stories in the city, like talking crows, headstones that didn't have snow on them in the winter, etc. I never saw anything, I do get a creepy feeling in one of the mausoleums though.

[Galen]

Vaesen by Johan Egerkrans is a great introduction to the subject, as well as one of my favorite books by one of my favorite illustrators in general. Admittedly I'm a lot more familiar with the nationwide folklore than I am with the local stuff that's specific to where I live, but the local area has a project dedicated to preserving the oral traditions and promoting them to tourists.

Oooh! That book looks really interesting. The art I see in some of the pictures people have taken looks stunning, right up my alley. Looks like there's a tabletop RPG inspired by it, too. Doesn't seem particularly easy to get the book in the US of course, but it looks like grimfrost ships worldwide. Hmm...

[Siggdalos]

Oooh! That book looks really interesting. The art I see in some of the pictures people have taken looks stunning, right up my alley. Looks like there's a tabletop RPG inspired by it, too. Doesn't seem particularly easy to get the book in the US of course, but it looks like grimfrost ships worldwide. Hmm...

The artist's own webshop ships worldwide, but as far as I can tell, the only version of the book available from there is a more expensive signed version.

[dongregg]

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.

[gkmoberg1]

a-ha! @dongregg & buddies fail to re-release Spanish Flu. Excellent work