r/Ghoststories

Ich wollte es einfach mal erzählen. Ich habe niemanden zum reden also vielleicht gibt es hier Leute die meine Erfahrung gerne hören wollen.

Es geht wie im Titel um eine Halluzination. Es began mit etwa 4 Jahren. Mein Vater war sehr gewalttätig. Schläge, Mord Drohungen, emotionaler in3st und alles mögliche war typisch für ihn. Mein Vater hat schizophrenia und ist ein sehr starker Trinker.

Meine Mutter und er sind getrennt, dass wird wichtig für gleich. Ich lebe bei meiner Mutter und besuchte meinen Vater immer jedes Wochenende oder in den Ferien. Mein großer Bruder lebte bei ihm.

Eines Tages besuchte mein Bruder mich und ich nannte mein Stiefvater:"Dad". Ich tat es aus angst. Er wat ebenfalls gewalttätig aber seinen Kindern über nett. Ich dachte wenn er mein Vater wird, würde er auch nett mir gegenüber werden. Mein Bruder war außersich vor Wut und sagte es unserem Vater. Er reagierte natürlich wütend.

Er fragte mich zuerst aus, dann kam das Alkohol und dann die Konsequenzen für mein Fehler. Mein Rücken tut bis heute weh. Der Schmerz ist chronisch. Er wurde in seiner ersten Ehe betrogen daher dachte er ich sei nicht sein Kind.

Er bestraft mich danach zusätzlich mit Gewalt-Videos bzw gore. Ich habe einige Bilder immernoch im kopf. Aber eines ist mir ganz besonders im Kopf geblieben. Es war eine Aufnahme, ein Jungen wurde mit dem Eislöffel die Augen entfernt. Ich geh in keine Details ein bezüglich des Videos aber ich weiß dass ich absolut verstört war und Tagelang nicht schlafen konnte.

Die paranoia dass mich karma trifft und mir sowas ähnliches passiert folgt mir ständig. Es ist bis heute ein großes Problem für mich.

Damals war es aber schlimmer. Insbesondere in der 1sten Klasse. Es war ein Kälter,dunkler Wintermorgen. Ich saß bereits mit Jacke und Schultasche im Wohnzimmer auf der Couch. Die Uhr machte ein tackvolles ticken. Es war das einzige was meine Einsamkeit füllte. Ich bemerkte plötzlich am Augenwinkel eine Figur. Ich schaute erschrocken hin und sah ihn, den Jungen! Es macht mir bis heute angst. Nicht weil er Angst einflößend war- im Gegenteil er war super friedlich und machte mir an such keine Angst. Was mir angst machte war das Gefühl due nächste zu sein. Ich sah ihn tagelang bis Wochen. Ich fühlte mich weniger einsam. Aber eines Tages verschwand er.

Es klingt komisch aber ich vermisse ihn. Er wirkte auf mich wie ein Teil von mir. Als hätte uns dasselbe Leben erwartet. Ich weiß nicht ob es Sinn macht. Aber ich will ihn wiedersehen.

Back in 2018, I was a single mom of four kids. My dad lived alone in Magna, Utah, in the house that had once belonged to my great-grandparents. After they passed away, he stayed there and became, in a way, the caretaker of the old family home.

I went down there often to visit him, mow his lawn, help with things around the house, and just spend time with him.

One afternoon, I noticed he didn't look well.

Then he asked me something that immediately worried me.

“Is it normal to have blood in your stool?”

I told him no, absolutely not, and that he needed to see a doctor. My dad was incredibly stubborn when it came to things like that, so I offered to help him make the appointment.

A few weeks later, he finally went in and had tests done.

He was very reluctant to tell us the results. Eventually, I helped him log into his medical account, and I saw for myself just how sick he was.

My dad had lived a hard life. He had been an alcoholic and a smoker for most of it. He'd also worked for a mining company for 39 years. In 2013, they laid him off, and after that, it seemed like something inside him changed. He had spent so much of his life working that being forced into retirement seemed to take a piece of him.

Now he was dying.

He refused cancer treatment. At first, he didn't want hospice either. But his health declined incredibly fast.

His stomach began filling with fluid and became severely swollen. Nurses came to the house and taught my sisters and me how to drain the fluid into a bag. We took turns caring for him—helping him to the bathroom, bathing him, making sure he ate, giving him medication when he would accept it, and simply sitting with him.

It was horrible watching someone you love deteriorate so quickly.

But there were beautiful moments mixed in with the awful ones.

Sometimes I would bring all four of my kids with me, and we'd stay overnight. The kids would sleep in the living room while I took care of Grandpa.

My son Tyler was just learning to play guitar, and he'd sit and play for my dad. The kids would tell him jokes and stories and try to make him laugh.

I could see how much it brightened his days.

My dad was only sick for about four months after his diagnosis.

And toward the end, something happened that I still can't explain.

It was sometime around October.

The kids and I were staying at Dad's house that night. They were asleep in the living room, but I couldn't sleep.

By then, my dad was barely eating or drinking anything.

About once an hour, I'd hear his weak voice call from his bedroom:

“Cocoa.”

That meant he wanted chocolate milk. At that point, it was practically the only thing he would consume.

So I'd get up, make him a small cup, take it to him, make sure he was comfortable, and try to rest again.

That night I was exhausted, but restless.

My kids were spread out in the living room, finally asleep. I laid down nearby, trying to force myself to rest. And then I felt it: a light tap on my shoulder. Soft, but clear, and right next to my ear, a small voice, 'Mom.' I jolted, turned over expecting one of the kids, but nobody was there. I lost a daughter at birth about 5 years prior and my mind directly thought about her at that moment. That was when the restlessness really set in. I got up, wandered to the kitchen with that nagging feeling under my skin, and eventually the hallway, where everything else happened

The house was almost completely dark. The only light on was the small kitchen light above the sink.

I remember getting up from my make shift bed and standing in the kitchen.

Just off the kitchen was a hallway. My dad's bedroom was down that hallway. Across from his room was the bathroom, with the TV room nearby.

Then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

I looked over.

It was my dad.

I watched him move quickly down the hallway toward the bathroom.

He was naked, which actually wasn't unusual by then. Near the end, clothing had become uncomfortable and difficult for him, so he usually stayed covered with a sheet or blanket.

But what scared me was that he was walking by himself.

He couldn't do that anymore.

I saw him grab the wall for support and hurry toward the bathroom.

My heart dropped.

“Dad! No! Let me help you!”

I rushed after him because I was terrified he was going to fall.

I reached the bathroom.

It was empty.

I stopped.

Then I turned and looked across the hallway into my dad's bedroom.

He was lying in bed.

Asleep.

I just stood there.

I looked back into the empty bathroom.

Then back at my dad.

He hadn't moved.

I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

I hadn't just seen a vague shadow. I hadn't heard a noise and assumed it was him.

I had seen a figure that looked exactly like my dad move across that hallway.

I saw his body.

I saw him grab the wall.

I was so certain it was him that I yelled at him and ran after him because I thought he was going to fall.

And yet there he was.

Still in bed.

For a while afterward, I kept asking myself the same question:

Who did I just see?

A few days later, one of the nurses came to the house.

I decided to tell her what had happened.

I expected her to say I was exhausted. Maybe that stress and lack of sleep had gotten to me.

Instead, she didn't seem surprised at all.

She told me that as people get closer to death, sometimes strange things begin happening around them—things their families can't always explain.

Then she said something that has stayed with me ever since.

She told me that some people believe that, near death, the veil between this world and whatever comes next begins to thin.

And she gently told me that my dad might be getting ready to leave.

I thought those words would scare me.

Instead, they brought me comfort.

My dad passed away not long afterward.

Years have passed, but I still think about that night.

I know I was exhausted. I know I was under tremendous stress. I was watching my father die, barely sleeping, and taking care of four kids at the same time.

Maybe there's a completely ordinary explanation for what happened.

But I also know what I saw.

For those few seconds, there wasn't a doubt in my mind.

I saw my dad walking down that hallway.

Sometimes I wonder whether what I witnessed wasn't a haunting at all.

Maybe some part of him was already beginning to leave.

Maybe the nurse was right.

Maybe, for just a moment that night, the veil really did become thin enough for me to see through it.

I still don't know what I saw that night. I know I was exhausted. I know stress and grief do strange things to your mind. But I also know that I saw my dad. Not a shadow, not a trick of light. I saw him move down that hallway, saw him grab the wall, saw him with my own eyes, and then he was still in bed. I can't say what it was. But sometimes I think maybe it wasn't a haunting or something creepy at all. Maybe it was just my dad, already halfway between here and whatever comes next.

I am a spiritual person. (Christian) I’m a true believer that the only spiritual thing is God, angels, and demons (Nephlim) I don’t believe in ghost. No afterlife other than heaven or hell. So I need someone to help me figure out what the heck happened to me tonight. I had just went to the bathroom it was 2:30am. When I walked through the kitchen to get to the bathroom I felt watched. And I just saw shadows that were weird but I brushed it off. Well I left the bathroom and went back to my bedroom where we have a massive sliding glass door with long heavy curtains covering it. They are HEAVY. We have to wash them by hand because they are too heavy for the washing machine. Anyways I was laying there and I saw my curtain rod shake so I looked over and the curtain was slowly pulling back. So I freaked out and jumped backwards to the edge of the bed and then the curtain just flung. It flung hard into the air and then dropped against the window. I was paralyzed to movement because of fear. I eventually was able to look away and run to my husbands room across the house. As I walked in there I heard footsteps behind me. Like it was torturing me on purpose. The energy left my body. Do I have an infestation? I’m currently driving around my town because I’m too scared of my house right now. We’ve been having paranormal activity for 4 years but it’s getting unbearable.

When I was 22, I had to terminate a pregnancy in may 2004. I was devastated, but a few months later, I became pregnant again. I had my daughter march 2005.

May 24 2006 I was in a semi fatal I guess you can say, car accident on a major highway at very high speeds. me in my sports car and the other driver in a big box truck. When first responders arrived I was unconscious. I came to for a bit getting cut out of my car but placed on the gurney covered in a sheet and there was a lot of blood and I heard the other drive screaming “ oh my god, I killed her!”

Next thing I know I’m being told I was being administered a medication to basically paralyze me for the helicopter ride to the trauma hospital. everything was a blur. I remember certain moments of coming to and then nothing. One particular time of my blacking out, I was having a dream, or at least that’s how it felt. there were balloons all over and these charming little cottages with all cobblestone roads. i remember looking around very confused when someone grabbed my hand and I looked down to see a little girl standing there with long,curly, brown hair and brown eyes. she said she was waiting for me and to come with her because it was her birthday and I could walk there.

I looked at her and said hun I’m Not your mommy.( my first born daughter was blonde hair blue eyes)She said “you're so silly. Come on! Walk with me! You can walk here mommy”. I then woke up in a trauma room having a chest tube put in, hearing nurses screaming for type and cross( for blood transfusions) and realizing my clothes were cut off and blacking out again. When I finally woke up it was a week and multiple surgeries later and the Dr who got me off the helipad and the Dr that did the actual hip, pelvis, and acetabular column surgeries had both come in to tell me how lucky I was because I had flatlined numerous times. I was then told the extent of my injuries and that there was a good possibility that I may not WALK again and I couldn’t have anymore children due to the extensive internal injuries.

Fast forward a bit and i was actually able to walk again and also wound up having my son in 2009. I had my two kids. I was done. I beat the odds and managed to do both things I was told I couldn’t do. i Was still going to therapy for the PTSD where I had discussed this weird place I went to when I flatlined and described the little girl who almost haunted me at times. Then I remembered the termination I had in may and thought maybe it was the baby I never got to meet. Now there’s all this info in my medical records for years after my accident. Well…

fast forward again to 2016. I’m already older. My kids are basically grown not actually adults but very independent my son was almost 8 and my daughter 13. I had to go to the hospital because I wasn’t feeling right. This is when I found out I was pregnant. I then later found out I was having a baby girl and I gave birth in December 2017 to a beautiful baby girl with brown hair and like a not really brown brown but dark eyes. About 2 and a half years later her hair began to change until one day I looked at her and saw the child from when I flatlined standing in front of me. Long brown beautiful spiral curls, big round brown eyes and in that exact moment she smiled, held my hand, said “i love you mommy. Wanna go walk please”

Now my youngest and I live alone in an apartment in n a haunted house. It was a mansion but converted into a few studios but we have the largest unit and the only 2 bedroom. The fact that I was almost actually dead, and clearly my daughter was just waiting to come back to me, I feel that is the reason she is able to identify and talk to family members she has never met. Also why the orbs and activity in my house is because my daughter and I not only see and believe in the spirit world, but I’m pretty certain we have both been to this place.

FYI everything that I am saying, I have receipts for. A lot of it is in medical records which all were written up prior to 2017. I have pics of my kids I would just blur their faces. I will never post or tell a story where I don’t have proof of everything that I post. My daughter’s autism requires a good portion of my time so I have no time to be sitting around just making up stories.

It feels like a lot of paranormal content is manufactured nowadays. Like any form of entertainment, it incentives attention. It doesn’t mean it’s all “fake” or that it discredits paranormal activity as a whole. It blurs the line between performance and investigation. 

I’ve been peripherally interested in paranormal phenomena and stories for about 20 years. Now, more than ever, I’m curious to strip away all the “fluff” and try to see what’s going on at the root of it all. 

People assume that some piece of gear allows for “communication” because they see someone using it on TV or social media. Or because the person selling it says it lets you talk with spirits. What if we don’t use that as the starting point. What if we look at it through the lens of building our view from the ground up. Beyond what our own senses are telling us, nothing is for sure. Even then, our senses can be misleading. 

My goal is to look at paranormal topics through the most basic lens first, and only then build up from there. Hopefully, eventually, a clearer picture starts to form around what is going on during these strange phenomenon. I have my opinions and beliefs, but I want to document along as I look into these topics a bit deeper. 

Who else out there is looking at these topics from an open-minded, skeptical, and ground-up perspective that I should check out?

When my daughter was 4 she started talking about an imaginary friend. At first it was cute but a little creepy. She first mentioned them while at a sleepover with family saying "they were watching" her aunt blew it off but reported it and mentioned the name only came up a couple of times but that time made the hair stand on the back of her neck. We laughed it off as a little kids imagination.

For months my daughter brought the friend up. Talked about the games they'd play and how funny her friend was and I thought it was harmless until my daughter came out of her room crying and said her friend scared her. We aren't talking about crocodile tears, this kid was hyperventilating and wanting to sleep in my bed terrified.

Took me a minute to get it out of her. Her "imaginary" friend had told her their whole family died in a fire, that the imaginary friend did too as well as their grandma and their dog and that my daughter and our family would die that way too. Again my daughter was FOUR. That was when I told her she wasn't allowed to play with that friend anymore and that she had to ignore them.

Found out 8 years later that the same imaginary friend had been with her when she swallowed and choked on a nickel. She had to have it surgically removed and I think the friend may have been behind it. That was when she finally gave me a description of the "friend" she had been seeing. A little girl with long brown hair and a stripped long sleeve shirt with solid black eyes and was giggling and jumping in the bed when my daughter swallowed the coin.

We haven't said that imaginary friend's name since my daughter was 4 and won't. I didn't put it in here because I have no interest in inviting that thing back in our life but I will say do not blow it off if your kid mentions an imaginary friend. They see things we can't and that friend could be dangerous. Pretty sure it almost cost my daughter her life.

I usually sleep super early but last night I stayed awake cause of a friend's bday. After wishing her, I got up to close the lights when suddenly this repeated noise of someone throwing stones started coming from the floor above. It continued until I fell asleep. I told my parents about this too and my dad's been hearing it too but when he went to check once, no one was there. Im pretty spooked😔.

I had an experience in a hospital once that left me pretty shaken up. About three years ago, I was in the hospital for a severe respiratory infection that wasn’t COVID or flu. I have COPD, and the infection caused me to go into respiratory failure. The doctor had placed me on a BIPAP machine to help me breathe, and treated me with steroids and antibiotics. Luckily, after a few days, my condition soon improved and they were able to take me off of the BIPAP, and put me on a Hi-Flow Canula, which allowed me to talk. So, it was early evening of the day I was started on the new device. My sister was visiting me, and a nurse and a respiratory therapist were in the room doing their jobs. The area on the bedside to my left was cluttered with monitors and the breathing machine. There had been a bedside three drawer nightstand there, but they had moved it and placed it by the door to make room for all the equipment they were using. The RT was adjusting the breathing machine, and the nurse was taking my vitals and preparing my medications. While all this was going on, the food service orderly brought in my dinner tray, and because the area near my bed was full of machines and people, they placed the tray on the nightstand next to the door and left. I had no appetite whatsoever, so we just left it on the nightstand for the orderly to pick up later. So, the nurse and the RT were doing their thing, and I was talking to my sister, when suddenly, the tray just flew off the nightstand, sailed across the room, and crashed into the bathroom door, sending food flying all over the floor and onto the bathroom door. At first, no one sad anything and everyone just kind of froze. Then my sister, ever the wiseass, said, “I guess someone really doesn’t like the food.” The nurse replied, “I guess not.” and then she called for someone from housekeeping to clean up. I was in that room for about ten more days. I temember feeling trapped there, stuck in the bed, hooked to a bunch of machines, and almost too weak to weak to walk. I laid there, expecting something else to happen, but nothing else ever did.

When I was 13 and my little sister was 11, our mom took us to a yard sale in our small town. While we were looking through furniture and old pictures, we found a painting of a girl who looked eerily similar to me. She had the same general features, except she had darker hair, extremely pale skin, completely black eyes, and a thin, slit-like scar underneath her left eye.

My mom knew I loved spooky shit, so she asked if I wanted it as we flipped it over. The painting had been made in the same month and year I was born, and its title was my middle name. My sister and I immediately felt uncomfortable. My mom, however, was apparently completely unfazed by the haunted-doppelgänger situation and bought it for me anyway.

My sister and I had shared a bedroom our entire lives, so I hung it on our wall when we got home. Our dog, Bubbles, hated it. Whenever she came into our room, she would stare at it, growl, and act completely on edge.

That first night, my sister begged me to put it in the closet because it creeped her out. Truthfully, it creeped me as well, but that was also exactly why 13-year-old me liked it. Apparently, my survival instincts hadn’t developed yet.

I put it in the closet, and that’s when things started happening. For the next two weeks, we heard blood-curdling screams coming from the closet.

My dad had no idea any of this was happening. I honestly don’t think he knows even now. My sister and I kept trying to convince ourselves we were imagining things, but our dog would bark and freak out, too.

Eventually, my sister was so scared that she went to stay with our cousin. When she came home, she told me she had a plan: we were going to destroy the fucking thing.

By this point, I wasn’t arguing. We ripped the painting into pieces, gathered every scrap we could find, and took them outside to burn them. We stood there watching until there was basically nothing left.

Then I went back inside, and when I walked into our room, sitting on my bed was the eye from the painting. The black eye with the scar underneath it. I remember dropping to my knees because I could suddenly hear those screams again, except this time they were deafening. Then I felt what too me seemed to be blood coming from my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. My sister came running into the room with our dog and asked me what was wrong. The second she came in, everything stopped. There was no blood, no screaming, nothing.

Later that night, I swear I saw my grandmother come into our room and tell me everything was going to be okay. She had died when I was two years old. After that, it all stopped. We moved not long afterward. That painting wasn’t the only strange thing we experienced in that house, but we haven’t experienced anything like those incidents since moving away.

There was, however, one more time I saw the girl.

When I was around 20 or 21, I was driving alone on my way to work when I glanced into my rearview mirror. She was sitting in my back seat. I recognized her immediately: the pale skin, dark hair, black eyes, and scar underneath her left eye. I panicked so badly that I nearly wrecked my car. I pulled over as quickly as I could and turned around.

My back seat was completely empty.

I’m almost 29 now, and I still have no explanation for what happened in that house or what I saw in my car years later. I know how this sounds. All I can do is describe what I remember experiencing. One thing’s for sure, though: I have never brought home another creepy-ass yard sale painting.

"My post about a near-accident at Martin's Corner (Rogue River, OR) was banned by mods, but I know what I saw.

Not mods in this subreddit, but my local one..

When I first moved here about a year ago, I noticed a large amount of car accidents on my road, and when I reached out to the locals about it I got the typical "people drive too fast/slow" or "no one knows how to drive at night/in certain weather"... Then one night as I was coming home late at night I saw what I thought was someone suddenly crossing the road, so I showed down and as I did I saw that it wasn't a person, just legs... So I looked into it and found the following:

In the winter of 1924, a logger named Silas Vance was working a timber camp deep up East Evans Creek. During a sudden freeze, a massive logjam formed. Silas was sent down into the rocky creek bed with dynamite to clear it. The fuse burned too fast. The blast and the resulting wall of water and crushed timber tore him apart. His upper body was recovered and buried in the valley, but his lower half—pinned beneath a multi-ton Douglas fir—was swept away by the roaring creek and never found.Because his legs were never buried with the rest of him, they are stuck in a looping, phantom sprint, trying to outrun the water and wood that claimed them. He only appears on East Evans Creek Road on foggy nights when the creek is running high. He doesn't just walk; if you slow down to look at him, he matches your speed. If you stop your car entirely, he will sprint directly at your door.

They call the phenomenon "Ol' Legs"