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I’m on tumblr at work all of a sudden it decided my dashboard should have a suggested post from…

by cnkguy
I’m on tumblr at work all of a sudden it decided my dashboard should have a suggested post from…

I’m on tumblr at work all of a sudden it decided my dashboard should have a suggested post from somebody I don’t follow and lucky for all of us here it was a porn blog. Thanks, my guy.

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SCARY GHOST STORIES

Nightmares


Posted in Nightmares and tagged by with no comments yet.

The Fountain

by cnkguy
The Fountain

Anonymous Submitted:

This story didn’t happen to me but to my uncle. He and a couple friends were on vacation at a hotel when they were in their twenties. One of them brought out a ouija board and they decided to play with it.

After setting up in candle light and closing the blinds (my uncle says it was in the late afternoon, not the spookiest time, I know ;P) they asked if anyone was there. The board said yes. They asked who was there. The board said “T-H-E-D-E-V-I-L.” Thinking somebody among them was messing with them, they asked, “How do we know it’s you.”

The board said, “F-O-U-N-T-A-I-N.” It took them a second to work it out, but there is a fountain in the courtyard of the hotel, so the three of them left the room and went to the courtyard of the hotel. They stood close to the fountain and looked around. Then one of my uncle’s friends the two others on the shoulders and pointed to a window a few stories above them. In it, a dark figure in a red hood was looking down upon them. Whatever it was took a step back and disappeared.

They put the ouija board away after that.

FYNK James: 9/10 I’m at work right now and somebody just walked in and I shuddered. Anyways, your uncle and his friends should have found something better to do while on vacation. Thanks for sharing the scares!

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SCARY GHOST STORIES

Nightmares


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Reflections of the Majorette

by cnkguy
Reflections of the Majorette

Reflections of the MajoretteReading Time: 14 minutes

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It must be raining.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Blaire rolled over.

Knock.

Damn tree branch.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She pushed the blanket off her head and surveyed the darkness from where she lay in bed. Beyond the crack in the window curtains on the other side of the bedroom, a sliver of the weird white winter night sky fell across the floor in a thin line of defused light. The alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed displayed 11:59 P.M. for a moment, then it blinked a faint red flicker, and it was midnight. Instead of getting up right away and turning on the light, Blaire lay in the darkness and waited for her sight to adjust to the low light. The details of the bedroom came slowly into a sort of shadowy focus . . .

The doors to the hallway and closet door were closed. The door to the bathroom connected to the bedroom hung slightly ajar. Clothes lay scattered about the floor; clean on one side, dirty on the other (although they overlapped several places). A perfectly good half-empty dresser stood in a corner.
Blaire got up, went to the window, and peered through the crack in the curtains. She expected it to be rain, but the entire visible area of the apartment complex below was dry, and even from where she was standing at a height of three stories above it all, it was apparent that not a single drop of rain had fallen while she had been asleep. She glanced back at the alarm clock. It displayed 12:15 A.M.

Still standing in front of the window in the over-sized T-shirt she had gone to bed in, Blaire considered the tapping sound she had heard upon awakening. It could’ve been a leftover sound from a dream, one she’d mostly forgotten upon awakening. That seemed like a reasonable explanation.

Before the guilt and depression could rise to the surface of her mind, she broke away from the window, crossed the bedroom, opened the door to the short hallway, and stepped into the darkness. She emerged in the living room a moment later, twisted a dimmer switch, and crossed into the connected kitchenette. Then, with enough to find her way in the cupboards, she set about brewing a pot of coffee in the dimly lit ambience. She preferred it this way in odd hours of the night, when she found herself awake and unable to return to sleep, when that one loathsome rain-swept night

(when the headlights washed over him)

swam too close to the surface of her thoughts.

(and she slammed on the brakes)

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She paused, holding a bottle of powdered creamer in one hand, unsure if she had heard anything or if she had only imagined that she had heard something. It had been too faint to tell. She could not be certain.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She set the creamer on the counter, raised one cupped hand to her ear, turned in a slow semi-circle, stopped facing the short hallway, and stood there listening for a moment. She didn’t realize that both her arms and legs had broken out in gooseflesh. But she was aware of the icy shiver that passed down her spine.

Certain she had heard something the second time, which by extension assured her that she’d also heard something the first time, she approached the hallway threshold, moving quietly for reasons she had not yet contemplated.

Unable to confirm the source of the sound, she glanced at the front door of the apartment, which lay only half a dozen paces away to from her to the right. Her purse was on the counter beside the door. Her keys were hooked to her purse. But she didn’t more toward those things, for she did not feel threatened. Besides, her feet were bare and she had no trouble keeping the silence of the night. If the need to escape should arise, although she didn’t think it would, she would be able to flee from her apartment to her silver Honda in the parking lot the short order. The longer she stood at the mouth of the hallway the less likely she thought there was anything dangerous lurking in the dark hall from which she had come. And to be perfectly logical about it, if somebody else was in the apartment, and if that somebody else intended to do her harm, then they would’ve already done so by now. They could have attacked her while she was sleeping . . . or, they could have snuck up behind her while she was standing in front of the window.

There was nothing to fear.

Knock.

Well, nothing except for the damn rats. The wretched little thing could have crawled up through the plumping and become trapped in the bathroom connected to the bedroom. It made sense . . . in a way.
Blaire returned to the kitchen, opened one of the lower cupboards, and grabbed hold of a formidable iron skillet with a decent amount of weight to it. Although it was over a foot in diameter, she knew she would still have to move in close to slay the varmint, but the thought of just going back to sleep and calling the handyman in the morning without knowing whether or not the noise had been made by a rat was far more intolerable than smashing the disease-carrying invader into a blood spattered mess of dead rat paste. She could deal with this on her own. There was no reason to wait on the handyman.

There was really nothing to fear.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Moving in a slow and deliberate manner, she went down the hall back to the bedroom and switched on a lamp. Soft yellow light flooded the bedroom. It lent the white walls a creamy sort of skin color and made her bare legs look much tanner than they actually were in reality.

The bathroom door still hung slightly ajar. The light beyond it was switched off. She flattered a few steps before she reached the door, considered turning around, grabbing her phone from the nightstand, calling one of her guy friends to come deal with it (or the police), and then she went on. She stopped again directly in front of the door. Beyond the door, she again heard the faint tapping sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Blaire took a deep breath, raised the iron skillet in a murderous rat-killing arc with both hands over her head, lifted on foot off the ground, and gave the door a swift, dainty kick with the flat part of her foot, and stepped back, prepared for a possible rush-attack from the rat. The door swung inward on its hinges, revealing a bare bathroom floor bathed in a slant of murky light cast by the lamp in the bedroom behind her. No rat.

Reaching around the doorway, she flipped the light switch on, and glanced about the corners. She still didn’t see a rat. She pulled the shower curtain back. It was empty. Then her eyes fell to the cabinet under the sink and certainty rose in her mind like a bloated corpse

(the car loses traction on the slick road)

forcing its way free from a shallow grave.

(the bearded old man—the whino—tumbles over the hood)

She opened the cabinet and stepped back, again expecting to be rushed. But nothing rushed out of the cabinet. There were a few rolls of toilet paper and some feminine hygiene products underneath but that was it. She crouched down to have a better look and poked around the cupboard with the iron skillet, not really expecting to find anything at this point, considering that everything inside the cupboard was intact and nothing had been chewed up. There was nowhere else for a rat to hide. She didn’t understand where the strange noise had come from.

Knock. Knock.

Had it been like that before?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

No. Surely it hadn’t.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Then she understood and her skin broke out in gooseflesh.

Thump.

It was coming from the wall behind the mirror.

Standing up, Blaire regarded her reflection in the bathroom mirror with an air of suspicion and her reflection regarded her in the same way with the same cool eyes. Blaire had never quite learned to trust in her mirrored image. Her reflection looked tired and worn out, as though Blaire had been tossing and turning all night, grappling with some nightmarish phantasmagoria in her sleep, and damn was her hair a mess.

Then, from the wall behind the mirror, there was another thumping sound. Blaire was sure what had just happened.

(she feelshelpless)

Things were starting to get mixed up in her head.

(then she has an idea)

There was a crash of splintered wood.

(and she shifts from drive to reverse)

It sounded a lot like a door being kicked in.

(or a skull being crushed)

Under a car tire.

(popping like a pumpkin full of red Kool-Aid)

Blaire spun around, completely disheveled now, unknowingly issuing a tiny shriek of fright, and listened to the silence. But surveying the bedroom and the hallway beyond, she could detect no change in the apartment or sign of intrusion. But before she could take comfort in those observations, another thump came from directly behind her.

She turned slowly back to the mirror, looked back at her reflection, and for a moment, they were the same, then her reflection broke character, Even though both of Blaire’s hands remained clamped firmly at her sides, her reflection raised one hand on its side of the mirror and thumped on the glass. It was as though her reflection wanted to get Blaire’s attention. There was nothing menacing about it—

She might just be having a really crazy hallucination or something.

Blaire had no doubt that even a creepazoid like Sigmund Feud would find something like this perplexing. But then she caught sight of a secondary movement in the mirror, this time behind her reflection, which was still thumping on the glass, like a semi-catatonic victim of some unspeakable horror. Behind her reflection, Blaire caught a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure in the living room. It ducked out of sight before she could grasp its form in greater detail.

Her reflection stopped thumping on the mirror, glanced back, and looked Blaire directly in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, Blaire thought they were almost the same again. Then her reflection opened its mouth.

Run, her reflection said, mouthing the word without sound.

Instead of running, Blaire lifted her hands and held them before her with her palms face-up. They were shaking. Then, still holding her hands before her, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her reflection seemed to have completely abandoned the physics in which it was supposed to operate, for it was now half-turned away from Blaire, watching the hallway. Looking past her reflection in the mirror, Blaire saw the figure making its way down the hallway, walking with a drunken canter to its step. However, when Blaire turned away from the mirror, she saw nothing in the real-world hall hallway behind her. She wasn’t sure what was going on here, if she was really awake, or how exactly it was possible for this to be happening. It was insane.

But it was happening.

As the figure
(the whino come back from the dead)

stepped into the bedroom on the other side of the mirror, it didn’t enter the bedroom the real-world side of the mirror. Her reflection took a step back, bumped back into the counter, and then the figure

(she hadn’t meant to hit him that night)

seized her reflection by the hair, twisting the half-rotten fingers of his purple-blue hand around in her hair so that her reflection would not be able to yank free. The whino made her reflection turn around to face Blaire. Her reflection squirmed and tried to break free, but the monstrous supernatural whino of the mirror-world had no trouble forcing her reflection to stay right where he wanted it to.

“No!” Blaire shouted. “No! No! No!”

Her reflection struggled harder, as though it didn’t want to face Blaire, as though it didn’t want to face the young woman who had once been a younger woman who had accidentally murdered the man holding it against its will.

“Don’t hurt her!” Blaire shouted. “Don’t you even think about it?”

The whino bared its few remaining teeth, yellow and decayed.

“Y-You . . . You better not even think about hurting her.” Me . . .

The whino lifted her reflection off the ground, one hand grabbing it by the back of its hair, the other grabbing it under the arm. Blaire screamed. But it didn’t stop the whino. He lifted her reflection into the air and bludgeoned its face against into the porcelain counter top. There was no sound. But blood flew everywhere. Blaire began to scream. The whino bludgeoned her reflection a second time. And now Blaire was screaming and screaming and screaming. After the third time, her reflection stopped struggling, and after the fourth bludgeoning, her reflection went limp. The whino held the corpse up for Blaire to inspect after the fifth time. He was grinning.

Paralyzed with fear and still unable to head her reflections previous advice to run, Blaire stood suddenly very silent and very still at the threshold of the bathroom in the real-world, uncertain how exactly her reflection could be dead and she could still be alive. Then the whino bit into her reflection’s neck and proceeded to rip its head out. Blood covered everything. The floor, the walls, the sink, the mirror, the ceiling, all got drenched in red within a minute. Blaire’s lip trembled. Her legs were shaking. By the time the whino had finished decapitating her reflection, a dark chasm had opened in solid ground of Blaire’s mind and there was no longer anything too illogically or too impossible to be believed.

The whino tossed her reflection’s headless corpse to one side and her reflections corpses head to the other. Her reflection’s head lodged in the corner of the corner against the cabinet beneath the sink and the wall. One of its eyes was still visible and to Blaire’s horror it appeared to still be very much aware of what had just happened.

The whino climbed on the sink, looked at Blaire from the other side of the mirror. Then it raised a blood-streaked hand to the glass, pressed against it, and smeared the glass.

“Go away!” Blaire shouted. “You got what you wanted now just go away! It was an accident! And yeah I screwed up! You should know better than to expect a nineteen-year-old girl to always do the right thing! And you got your revenge! And I’m sorry!”

But the whino only shook his head. Its thoughts however resounded through Blaire’s mind: No, Blaire. No, I didn’t, not yet. And I’m just getting started with you.

“Please . . .”

The whino pressed against the glass. After a moment, Blaire realized it was trying to figure out how to reach her on this side of the mirror. Then the mirror rippled and pulsated, like the way the surface of a pond might rise when disturbed from below by some enormous monster a second before it rose from the depths. Blaire felt something warm run down her leg, and she was only vaguely aware in the most faraway sense that she had just urinated on herself.

The whino pressed harder against the mirror. The mirror stretched like a membrane against its figures. Blaire needed to move. The curvature of the mirror was thinning, and Blaire suddenly realized that the whino would soon birth itself from the mirror-world into the real world, and she had no doubt that he had very hostile intentions toward her. Finally taking her reflection’s advice to heart, Blaire turned and ran screaming bloody murder out of the bathroom.

Leaving the bathroom, bedroom, and hallway behind, she grabbed her purse and car keys off the counter in the kitchenette, seized the doorknob of the front door, yanked it around, and pulled. It rattled against the frame. It didn’t open. The mirror shattered in the bathroom, and although she only heard it, she knew he was coming, and just that was enough to send her into a greater panic. She yanked on the door, again. But it still held fast. Then she remembered the deadbolt (she had forgotten to unlock it in her state of panic). Once she flipped it back, she was able to open the door with no problem, and then she was running down the outside corridor of the apartment complex toward the stairs. She descended all four flights of stairs somehow without losing her footing. Then she was dashing across the parking lot, her bare feet pounding against the cold asphalt.

When she reached her car, she glanced back over her shoulder at the apartment complex. The figure leapt from the fourth floor staircase, landed on the concrete sidewalk. Then it stood up and headed in her direction at a dead run. She fumbled with the keys hooked on the strap of her purse, without bothering to detach them, trying to get the driver-side door unlocked.

It seemed like an eternity, but in reality it didn’t take long until the door clicked, opened, and she was swinging it open. She keyed the ignition first try, and the engine roared to life. Then, as she reached for the door, a bloodstained hand grabbed her by the front of her shirt and the nightmarish face howled into face. As the nightmarish figure tried to pull her out of her car, she yanked the door shut with the full extent of her strength. The door connected with its head and crunching sound of breaking bone was extremely satisfying. Its hold on her loosened. She put the car in reverse, and floored the accelerator. Her car literally exploded out of her parking spot, hooking out to the right. She reversed until the figure was about fifty feet in front of the car. Then she braked, which slammed the driver-side door shut, and shifted into drive. The figure was limping toward her. She switched on her high-beams and floored the accelerator pedal. The figure raised a hand to the light, there was a satisfying thump, and then it was rolling around screaming in pain on the pavement in her rearview mirror. But even as she hooked a hard rubber-screeching turned out of the parking lot, she was pretty sure she saw getting up, and she sped down the road beyond the apartment complex the reckless abandon, turning down streets at random and ignoring traffic lights. When she saw the sign for the highway, she took it and brought the car up to 90 mph.

She kept a vigilant watch on her rearview mirror, terrified that her murderous pursuer would suddenly be sitting in the backseat, and each glance she cast upon the rear mirror haunted her, for her reflection was absent and she was alone. This was of course because her reflection was dead. It had been murdered. Yes, of course, of course, that made tons of sense. No, nothing made sense now. Her left arm lay useless in her lap, bent and twisted at a hideous angle; she had apparently left her phone on her nightstand, unless it had fallen out of her purse during the first stage of her escape; and her car smelled like piss. The car only had a quarter tank of gas, a quick check of her purse revealed that she had no money, and she was barefoot. She was also not wearing any pants. She didn’t know what to do. She was afraid to stop. But she knew that she would eventually have to stop. Therefore, it made more sense to stop on her terms rather than wait until she had run the gas tank dry.

Fifteen minutes later, at one o’clock in the morning, she pulled off the highway. Terrified that if she stopped too long, the murderous figure would run out of the darkness, she pulled into deserted rest area, parked near a phone booth, opened the door, got out of the car, and headed for the phone booth.
She picked up the receiver and dialed 911.

“Hello,” a pleasant female voice said, “police, fire, or medical.”

“Police,” Blaire said. “I need the police.”

“Hang on sweetie. Can you tell me where you—”

“Somebody’s trying to kill me!” Blaire shouted.

Static erupted on the line.

“Hello,” Blaire said. “Are you still there?”

“Bitch,” a guttural male voice said.

“What?”

“You bitch.”

It had to be her pursuer.

“You fucking bitch.”

“No, please.”

“You didn’t give me a phone call—”

“It w-was an a-a-accident.”

“—and I damn sure ain’t gonna let you have one.

“I d-d-d-didn’t m-m-m-mean too.”

”I’m gonna make you suffer.”

“I’m sorry.”

A cold hand fell on her shoulder. She didn’t need to turn around. She knew who stood behind her now, boxing her into the phone booth and blocking her escape. It was him. His fetid breath fell on the back of her neck, cold and rotten, like something that had been buried in the smell of its own decay for some length of time best kept unknown and left disremembered in the bowels of memory. He had her trapped. There would be no escape. The tears were rolling down her cheeks now.

“It’s time for you to die,” he whispered.

He yanked her hair, seizing her by the back of her head, and slammed her face into the telephone unit.

Pain exploded in her face.

Everything blurred.

The telephone unit filled her vision a second time.

And everything went black.

* * *

Detectives Darrel Flannigan and Clint Saunders arrived at the scene of the homicide at seven forty-five the following morning. They got out of their unmarked police sedan, ducked under the yellow tape that read POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS, and approached the body lying in the grass beside the telephone booth. There was a cluster of little yellow placards surrounding the telephone booth. There was more tape and another cluster of cones surrounding a silver Honda fifty feet away. A couple of beat cops were standing around, and a forensic technician was taking pictures, but the rest area was otherwise deserted. Flannigan was eating a bagel. Saunders was smoking a cigarette.

Flannigan and Saunders crouched down beside the body. The victim was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of piss-stained panties. There was a large gash above one of the victim’s eyebrows and part of the skull near the temple was misshapen.

“Cranial fracture,” Saunders said.

“Probably,” Flannigan said.

“You remember that big shot lawyer’s daughter?”

Flannigan nodded. “He’s a judge now.”

“I heard his daughter was being investigated for a hit-and-run last year.”

“Senior year of high school, was it that kind of deal?”

“Yeah,” Saunders said. “But she was never arrested.”

“Case file just sort of disappeared?”

Saunders nodded. “I think she was the majorette in the marching band.”

“I remember now, sort of.”

“Do you remember her name?” Saunders asked, looking at the victim.

“No,” Flannigan said. “But we can just run the plates and figure it out.”

“Did you know they had a body?”

“Flannigan shook his head. “Don’t tell me that also disappeared?”

Saunders raised an eyebrow. “You know what I think?”

“You think her daddy bribed the DA.”

“Or he bribed the chief of police.”

“And that’s just to start with.”

“Well,” Saunders said. “You know how the old saying goes.”

“Sure do.”

“Rich girls don’t go to jail.”

CREDIT : Scott Landon

The post Reflections of the Majorette appeared first on Creepypasta.

Source:

SCARY STORIES

Creepy Pasta


Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged by with no comments yet.

Ghost Hunting With Brian Parsons | The Grave Talks Sneak Peek

by cnkguy
Ghost Hunting With Brian Parsons | The Grave Talks Sneak Peek

Brian D. Parsons is the Director of Ghost Help (formerly a paranormal group from 1996-2011), the Executive Director of ParaNexus and has worked with a number of groups and organizations since 1996.

Brian has written six books, Handbook for the Amateur Paranormal Investigator or Ghost Hunter: How to Become a Successful Paranormal Group as well as a companion book, Betty's Ghost: A Guide to Paranormal Investigation, and follow-up exploring more concepts in paranormal group operation Handbook for the Amateur Paranormal Investigator II: The Art and Science of Paranormal Investigation . His fourth book, The "E4" Method: Breaking the Mold of Paranormal Investigation looks at his unique methodology of client-centered investigation that utilizes a skeptical foundation, psychology, advanced interviewing skills, parapsychology, spiritualism, as well as the "Ghost Excavation" methodology

He joins us today to discuss ghost hunting and what he believes to be the best methods of hunting for ghosts. Find out more at http://www.thegravetalks.com

Source:

HAUNTED PLACES

, Real Ghost Stories


Posted in Real Ghost Stories and tagged by with no comments yet.

fuckyeahnightmares: 🖤Happy birthday the 13th🖤 fuck i meant friday

by cnkguy
fuckyeahnightmares: 🖤Happy birthday the 13th🖤 fuck i meant friday

fuckyeahnightmares:

🖤Happy birthday the 13th🖤

fuck i meant friday

Source:

SCARY GHOST STORIES

Nightmares


Posted in Nightmares and tagged by with no comments yet.

DO NOT ENTER 9 TWIN LAKES ROAD

by cnkguy
DO NOT ENTER 9 TWIN LAKES ROAD

do not enterReading Time: 22 minutes

Personal journal entries of Chris Parker

3/14/2013 – 22:55
Today I arrived at Lakeworth. It was afternoon and I decided to buy enough groceries to last me the weekend. After that I went straight for Road 116 where Dan told me the little summer house his parents owned was. He said it was the last house down the road, somewhat into the forest and that it would be perfect for my needs, which were to isolate myself from society and gain some inspiration from nature.
I drove down 116 and passed a few houses, until there was a big gap of just trees and forest vegetation. I passed a big wooden fence, where the paved road transformed into a dirt road that went through a big semi opened metal gate. I got out the car and pushed the gate open. Then I kept driving for a few more minutes. Finally, a two-story wooden house appeared. Dan told me it would be the last house down the road and indeed the road ended just there, leaving just a narrow path into the forest that no car could enter. The house was surrounded by a wooden fence and a big red gate. The gate was not locked so I opened it and parked my car in the front yard of the house. There was a trail of a recently dried-out creek that seemed to have flowed right under the gate and into the forest. Perhaps it formed when the ground was flooded in the rainy season. Since Dan’s parents didn’t know I was about to borrow their summer house for a month, he didn’t give me a key. But he told me they hid a key under a porch, in a small gap between the deck boards. Well, I didn’t find the key, there were LOTS of gaps in the deck and I tried the look in the obvious ones, but it wasn’t there. Then I tried just opening the door, and it was unlocked. I did find a spare key above the door frame inside the house, so yay! The place was very nice and cozy, although a bit dusty. I unpacked everything and settled in. Since at this point it was already getting pretty dark, I decided to just chill in front of the fireplace and relax with a book.

3/15/2013 – 21:48
This place is great. It already has pretty much everything a person needs for some time to live in seclusion. I found an – old but in working order – record player and a bunch of records. There’s an old TV here that has an old RCA connection, so I can’t really use it with my HDMI laptop output. The bed is comfy, and I love the relaxing sounds of the fireplace.
I took an hour long walk today in the forest and decided that I would go camping sometime next week. I was supposed to go back to the town today but when I came back from my little forest hike, I felt a huge burst of inspiration. I had tons of canvases and oil paints stashed away in the car, so I put them to good use and spent the rest of the day painting.
Even better, there is no cell reception here. In fact, I was thinking of leaving my cell phone somewhere to get disconnected, so there’s no need to do that now. I would just have to buy DVDs or download movies I want right down to my laptop when I’m connected to the network in town, so I can watch them offline later when I’m home. There is a landline phone that I can use if I need, and that will be enough for me.

4/16/2013 – 01:55
In the morning I went to town to get some supplies I was missing and also picked up an HDMI to RCA connector for the TV. It worked pretty well but I got a weak signal of some satellite TV channel that overlapped with my laptop’s input. Anyway, I could only notice it when everything was completely quiet. I’ve spent the rest of the day painting and in the evening, I went to a local bar to have a beer and eat something and try to mingle a bit with the locals. On my first day in town I saw a few cute girls walking around and I thought I might see them again if I go out. At that bar, “The Claw”, I met a nice local guy named Denise. We drank a couple of beers each and talked about the town and our lives. I found out he ran the grocery store where I previously bought the food for the weekend. Apparently, he inherited the business from his father that passed away some six months ago. I was sorry to hear that since he seemed like a really nice guy. Later I caught a glance from a cute blonde girl, she looked at me for a second and the turned away shingly. She acted a bit weird after that. A parking car’s headlights shone through the big window behind her, and she looked a couple of feet to the left of me and seemed somewhat confused, then a friend of hers shouted something and the whole group she was with started laughing. The girl joined them and seemed to have forgotten about me.
Anyway, Denise and I switched numbers and decided to meet again soon.

3/17/2013 – 11:22
Today I started planning out my upcoming camping trip, I didn’t bring any camping supplies like a tent or a sleeping bag, so I had to buy or borrow them from someone. So I called Denise to check out with him. He got worried for a moment and told me not to go too deep into the woods. He told me that there’s a “really bad” place in the forest that everyone in town keeps away from. I’m not sure if he’s trying to prank me or what. When I tried to question him further He was extremely reluctant to talk about it. Eventually he just made me promise I won’t go camping until we meet in a couple of days when he’d tell me all about it.

3/19/2013 – 22:14
I’m not sure how seriously I should take what Denise told me today, but I decided not to go on with my camping plan anyway. We ate and chatted for a while, and then Denise told me about his father. He told me that he’s father didn’t really die in natural circumstances. I wasn’t sure at first if it was some weird sense of humor he had but when he kept talking I figured that he really believed what he was saying. He told me that his father was haunted, or more exactly, stalked by a strange being. Him, and his father’s friend didn’t know what it was, and tried helping him to get rid of the thing, with the help of exorcists and what not, but nothing helped. His father then left to live in an old hunting shack that their family owned, deep inside the forest, where he lived his remaining years until he died, which was not long ago. Denise told me that after he had died, they left the place and put up a huge warning sign that nobody could miss if they stumbled upon this place.
I told him that I couldn’t not be skeptic about this story, that I’m an atheist and do not believe in ghosts and supernatural beings. Denise accepted that but asked me (actually- he almost begged me) not to enter or even go near this place in case I do go on a hike on the forest. I asked him what would happen to me, but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He just told me to stay away from this place, and to not even get close to the cabin itself. “Whatever you do, don’t let the shadow of the building touch you” he said.
I’m confused. I don’t believe stuff like that, but I’m convinced Denise was serious about everything he said. Anyway, tomorrow I’ll take a short hike in the forest and look for this place. Denise did spook me a bit so if I find it I’ll stay away. I’ll also take a pair of binoculars to get a closer look at this place.

3/20/2013 – 13:31
I’m a bit creeped out right now.
After I ate breakfast I proceeded on my planned hike into the forest. Since yesterday, I got really curious about what supposedly lurked in those woods. Just as I left the house, I noticed there was a nail in the gate, but nothing was attached to it, so I figured there once was a house number that was lost to the weather. I walked along the dirt road into the woods, noticing the trail of the dried-out creek I saw when I first arrived here a week ago. I wondered how far this stream of water went so I stepped off the pathway and went after the trail of dried water. After not more than a hundred yards, hidden in the bushes I saw something that sent shivers up my spine. It was a large sign that had probably fallen from the gate of my house and flowed down the stream. The sign read
“DO NOT ENTER THIS PROPERTY. KEEP A DISTANCE OF AT LEAST 30 FEET AT ALL TIMES”
For a moment I was genuinely frightened. I wasn’t sure what to do. But then I calmed myself down and realized that nothing has happened to me since I arrived here, so all of this was probably just a story after all. I walked around the house to see if there was something scary about it that I should have noticed, but there was nothing. It was the same cozy little place I grew to like in the past few days.
Since my mood was still a bit spooked out, I gave up my little hike for a while. I also don’t really want to talk to Denise cause he’ll probably get all crazy and stuff.

3/22/2013 – 12:50
FUCKKKKKKKK
FUCK MY LIFE

3/22/2013 – 15:16
AM I LOSING IT?
After what happened this morning, I ran away from that damned house as fast as I could. I couldn’t think straight for the past few hours. I’m not even sure if I’m awake or dreaming. I just talked to Denise again. I can’t believe he was right all along.
FUCK ME
OK, I have to get my thoughts straight. What I saw today, I don’t want to think about that, but I have to give an account of everything that took place. Jesus, I’m getting my eyes tearing up just thinking about this.
When I woke up this morning I looked at the wall in front of my bed. My room, I mean, the bedroom in that damned house, is actually the whole second floor of the place. There was a desk across the room with a rotating office chair. When I woke up I lay in bed for a few moments. The sun was still low enough to shine through the window and illuminate the wall on the other side of the room. And then I saw it.
It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen in my life. On the illuminated part of the wall, I saw the shadow of a person, sitting in the office chair, facing my way, staring at me.
I’m not sure if I screamed or not, but in the next moment, I was on my legs out of the bed. But then I looked at the chair, and there was nothing. The chair was facing me because that’s how I left it after I finished sitting in it last night. For a moment I thought I just imagined everything, but then I looked at she shadow again. It was still there, a shadow of a person just sitting in the chair and facing me.
I don’t remember much of what happened after. I was so terrified I couldn’t think much. I think that for a moment I wanted to jump out the window, but I didn’t. Or at least I think I didn’t. In a few moments I was in the car driving like crazy. Somehow, I got to the town.
First thing I did was finding a phone booth and calling Denise. He flipped when I told him that not only did I “touch” the shadow of the house, but actually lived in it for a week. And of course, just as I needed him most, he was out of town. He told me to get a motel room, preferably a small one, and to buy a flashlight with enough batteries to change many times, and a laser pointer.
I stopped at a nearby shop and bought like a dozen flashlights and laser pointers, and I don’t know how many packs of batteries.
I think I now understand why I need them. I need something that could produce enough light for something to cast a shadow…for that…thing…to cast a shadow.
But I’m too damn afraid. I don’t want to see it again. Calmly staring at me again.
I can’t stay in this motel room right now. I have to go outside. But I don’t know where.
FUCK

3/22/2013 – 23:47
I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. That thing is stalking me constantly. I tried experimenting with it today. First of all, I noticed that the shadow is of a person that is always at the same distance from me. Whenever I move, that thing disappears, and when I look for it again with the laser pointer or flashlight, it stands in a different direction so that there are no obstacles that would prevent it from being at its usual distance, of about 25-30 feet. When I’m in a small room that doesn’t contain such lengths, it waits outside, still at the same distance. Of course, I tried throwing shit at it, but things just went right through like there was nothing there at all. I’m starting to wonder whether I could get used to it and just live the rest of my life with a silent companion.
I can’t believe I got myself into this shit.
Fucking Dan! Couldn’t you give me normal directions to a normal house?

3/23/2013 – 8:01
This was one of the worst nights of my life.
I couldn’t bring myself to turn off the lights. I kept imagining the worst possible things that could happen, and possible explanations for this nightmare. Needless to say I couldn’t sleep. I frantically searched the web for any information I could find about this thing but came up with nothing. I wonder if I’m just hallucinating everything…

3/23/2013 – 8:25
I just pointed the laser out of my motel room window for like 5 minutes and tried to find the thing but couldn’t see anything. Nothing blocked the little red dot. I hoped this thing just decided to go haunt someone else but didn’t really believe so. So…I exited the room and pointed it down the exterior corridor of the motel…and there it was. Some distance away the laser pointer was blocked. I’m not sure if it was my imagination but it seemed a bit closer than yesterday. I pointed it at the floor and that way I could see exactly where it disappeared. I moved it a bit right. The dot appeared again and when I kept moving it was blocked again. Two legs. It was standing right at that spot. I took my breath and moved two steps towards it. The thing disappeared. I counted my steps and estimated the stalking distance of the thing to be about 26 feet from me now. It was even closer than I thought. Then it struck me:
The thing is getting closer to me by the minute. And it was getting closer ever since I arrived at that damned house. And I was just naively painting and wasting precious time.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO???

3/23/2013 – 11:12
I got a long measuring tape from the hardware store and decided to confirm my suspicion. I located the spot where the “feet” of the shadow began and remembered the spot and then measured the distance between where I was standing at the time to the spot. It turned out to be 26 feet 2inch. I am going to check that again this evening and calculate the speed at which it was getting closer.

3/23/2013 – 23:30
I am fucked.
I checked the distance again. It got closer by approximately 1.5 inch. If the thing creeps towards me at a constant rate it means it gain about 3 inches a day. FUCK
Tomorrow I’m gonna meet with Denise and get some damn answers.
At least I hope so.

3/24/2013 – 16:01
I met with Denise. The first thing he did was taking the laser pointer I had, and it wasn’t long before he located the stalker. He told me it was the same thing that haunted his father. He said that his father never found a way to get rid of his stalker, but he did find a way to make life more manageable. He also told me that this thing closes down on me at the rate of about 1 inch a day. At this point I had already established that it was going at me 3 inches a day and I was not happy to break him the news. I asked him what this thing was and where it came from, but he didn’t know. He was really sorry and told me he tried to warn me. Needless to say, I questioned him a lot, but he didn’t know much. Or at least he answered very vaguely.
He told me that he could not exactly tell how his father stopped the thing, but there was someone who could help me.
We sat down in a diner. We ordered food, but I couldn’t touch it. I couldn’t see the shadow at that time, but I knew it was out there. He asked me what I think this thing could be. I had no idea, but I started speculating. I told him that I didn’t think it was a ghost. First of all, I don’t believe in the supernatural. Secondly, he sees it too, and from what he’s told me, anyone else could see the stalking shadow too if they were looking. I entertained the idea it was a person in some top-secret invisibility suit, but it didn’t make any sense and besides, I already tried throwing stuff at it. Maybe it was alien I suggested. Denise didn’t answer but then he told me more about this friend of his father’s. His name was Brian and while he didn’t tell Denise much, he seemed to know a bit more about the thing. He said that he will contact him and that he believes that Brian will try to help me as much as he can.
I am back at the motel room. I’ve already drank pretty much every tiny booze bottle I could find in the little fridge. I’m not even sure this could help me sleep. I don’t have enough courage to look out the window with a flashlight.

3/30/2013 – 18:45
The last week was the worst week of my life…If you can call what has now become if it “life”. My existence has become a pure torment. I couldn’t shut an eye for the first two nights but then tiredness, with enough alcohol, got the best of me and I slept a bit most nights. My dreams where filled with nightmares. I constantly drifted in and out of sleep and dreamt the shadow was getting closer and closer to me. Sometimes I would wake up and could swear I see the thing sitting and staring at me, and then I would realize I imagined or dreamt it. I became obsessed with checking the thing’s location every day. Last night I filled up with enough courage to look for the thing with a flashlight at nighttime. While the laser pointer was just a red dot that was blocked when I pointed that at the stalker, the flashlight showed a whole shadow. The moment I saw it I wanted to scream. I was totally traumatized from that morning I woke up in the forest house, and instead of the trauma healing, things only got worse and worse. I could feel the thing was creeping closer all the time.
When I walked around town, to meet with Denise or just get food I constantly checked my surrounding with the laser pointer. I was obsessed. I am now constantly fearing this thing to suddenly jump at me, suddenly start to move faster. Every single time I search for it with the laser pointer I am expecting it to be right behind me, I can sometimes feel the hairs of the back of my neck stiffen, but when I look for the thing with my laser pointer – and by now I got really good in locating it within seconds – It’s still pretty far away from me, about the same distance it was before, but just a tiny bit closer.
I started feeling like my time is getting shorter and shorter. What was coming for me seemed to be worse than death. I cannot imagine what happens when this thing comes for me, and I can’t say the thought of putting an end to this pathetic excuse for a life hasn’t crossed my mind.
And so far, no silver lining has shined. Although I’m meeting with Denise every day, he can’t really help me other than offering me his mental support, but he did not agree to come sleep with me even once. He’s too terrified of that thing, and I can’t blame him. And Brian, that damn bastard did not contact me, neither Denise since he first called him. Denise told me that Brian had to check some things before he could help and did not hear from him since.

4/04/2013 – 17:16
23 feet.
A bit less even. At this point I always carried a bag with batteries, a measuring tape and of course, my flashlight and laser pointer.
But today, finally something less bad has happened. Brian contacted me. Actually, he knocked on my door. He arrived at town without warning. Denise had told me to stay put, and so I waited and waited until that day came.
And he explained to me everything he knew.
He told me that Denise’s father, Steven was his name, and him, served together at area 51.
Back in 1974 the military had brought in something unidentified. They were positive it was not man made. Brian said that analysis of the materials it was made of could not match it to any material found on earth. In fact, they could not even find any resemblance to any known material. Steven was an officer that served there. He was leading a team that was ordered to slice the object open. Him and five more soldiers worked on hit. When the object finally broke, something had happened to them. All of them were “cursed”. Each of the five soldiers, acquired a stalker of his own. Each moving in his own pace and going after them.
One of the less fortunate soldiers had an especially quick stalker. The poor man could not handle it, and he eventually blew his own head. But, that’s how they found out about “them”. No one could guess what those things were, but they found out that they could only get closer when the men were in places that were not blocked from electromagnetic waves. Quickly the army supplied Steven with a house that was built from walls containing a metal net that didn’t allow the thing to track him. The stalker still waited outside of Steven’s house and whenever he left the house it kept stalking and getting closer to him. But anytime Steven was home, he was safe.
This thing seemed to be some kind of alien, closing in on its target from another, maybe fourth or fifth dimension. That at least, was Brian’s own speculation.
Since then he lived in the house on road 116, the same cursed house I lived in for a few days. He told me that Steven had died of a heart attack. The long years with living with the stalker, even though he was partially neutralized had taken their toll on him.
The thing is, that once Steven died, the thing stayed attached to the house, and would keep stalking the next person in encounters from the same distance it left Steven. Brian told me that they were lucky Steven had managed to crawl out of the house before he died. Otherwise they would never be able to get his body out without entering the house.
Apparently, they knew all this from investigation of the 5 soldiers that participated in the area 51 incident. However, he did not know what happened with the other 3 soldiers, nor could he get any information from the army.
I talked about trying to contact the military, but he said it would be a bad idea. He put it that way: their only attempt to neutralize that thing was with supplying Steven with his first safehouse. And since it didn’t work, they might try more extreme methods, and since none of the other soldiers was ever heard from since the event. It wouldn’t wise of me to contact them.
I asked why the army let Steven just live in a normal town and didn’t do something to quarantine the house. He said that Steven was a special occasion. He had connections to some high ranked officers and pulled some strings.
I still don’t know what to make of Brian’s story. It didn’t totally add up but it was the best explanation I had. So, what I have to do now is find myself a house that I can make into my own shelter. Then I would have to work day and night to fortify it with the metal net that would work as a Faraday cage and block the thing from keep closing in on me.

4/10/2013 – 21:44
21 feet.
I bought a small house in Lakeworth today. I got it because it was far away from the rest of town, I didn’t want other people to have the accident I had. It is located in the woods to the east of town, on 9 Twin Lakes Road.
I just took it without even looking inside. I couldn’t of course. Brian told me that everything I was about to do would only work if the stalker never entered my future safehouse. Once it set foot there – it was compromised forever.
I already got tons of fine aluminum nets. Tomorrow, Brian, Denise and I will start working on the house. We will have to cover the thing completely for it to be safe.

5/05/2013 – 6:27
16 feet
A month has passed since I had met Brian. A terrible sleepless month. The stalker was now close enough so that I could see its shadow almost in any closed place. In fact, If I stood at the corner of my motel room and point my flashlight at the farthest corner, I would see the shadow calmly standing there. I moved the bed as close to the center of the room as I could, so that the maximum distance between me and any wall would not be more than 10 feet.
You do not get used to it. By this time, I could only fall asleep by taking sleeping pills. I am always tired, I am always looking around and searching for shadows.
But perhaps today it will all be done. Brian, Denise and I worked constantly on the house. Applying multiple layers of aluminum nets over the walls, roof, windows, chimney, and any small gap we could find. We made it as strong as we could to minimize the chances of even the slightest radiation leak.
Brian and Denise constantly checked the house from the inside with electromagnetic spectrum analyzer and a few days ago it finely showed 0 EM transmissions. But to be sure we kept working on it.
This evening I will test the house. I will enter it the first time and will look around with my flashlight to see if the thing is there.

5/05/2013 – 23:31
HELL YEAH!!
I’m in…and it…is OUT!
It worked! The plan worked! Finally, I’m safe. I’m at a house arrest, yes, but at least I have something closer to a normal life now. The stalker is still out there, I already tried illuminating the surroundings of the house with a flashlight, and it was there, just outside the window, standing there, casting a huge shadow on the woods across the road. Fucking bastard. But I closed the curtain on it. I closed all the curtains and I was safe. Since by now the stalker got pretty close to me, once I opened the door to the house, he could be in the living room immediately because its radius was bigger than the distance of the stalker. So, we also installed a double door system, much like a spaceship airlock, in order to create a tiny space where I could enter, close both insulated doors and then open the inner house door.
And that’s how my life is going to be from now own.
At least I have some friends that could visit me. Dan came a few times since. He was horrified the first time he’s seen the shadow, but he still kept coming. Brian and Denise also seemed to get accustomed to the presence of the stalker, as much as one can. But that was pretty much everyone.
Still it’s better than nothing.
Happy life for me!

7/12/2013 – 20:18
I’ve been living in my little jail house for two months now. I am still haunted by nightmares, and I can still see the damn thing through the window every time I use my flashlight or laser pointer, at the closest distance possible to me from the outer side of the house. But it’s much better than before.
However, a few unanswered questions still bother me though. How exactly did that thing get into Steven’s house when he died? If it is alien why does it cast a person’s shadow? And where is the military now? Don’t they have some follow up on this whole story? Why does the stalker crawl faster to me than it did to Steven? Why did the army just leave Steven’s house to be and didn’t try to quarantine it?
Every time I try to question Brian about those things he answers vaguely or says that the most important thing is that I am safe now. However, he brought me a gun. He said that he hopes it doesn’t come to this, but just in case I ever need a fast way out. And in that case, he asked me to inform them of my decision and to execute it on the porch of the house.
I don’t like it.

11/12/2013 – 15:15
By now I got used to ordering everything I needed from stores with deliveries and used the double door system to receive the goods.
Lately my relationship with Brian deteriorated. He was reluctant to answer my questions, and I found the holes in his explanations more and more unsatisfying.
I thought a lot about all the unanswered questions I had when I suddenly realized something very disturbing. The house on road 116 didn’t have any mobile reception, which worked great with Brian’s explanations, but suddenly I remembered that the old TV set would catch satellite TV that I could barely hear over the movies I watched via the RCA connector.
Steven’s old house could not be blocking all EM transitions. So how could it serve as a safehouse? But then, my safehouse still works. Something is off.
Next time we meet I am about to confront Brian about that.

12/13/2013 – 23:45
Today…Everything changed.
Last week I invited Brian, Dan and Denise to celebrate an early Christmas with me (since none of them wanted to celebrate the real Christmas with a – supposedly – alien haunted Faraday cage).
After all of us drank some, I started questioning Brian again. As usual he answered the minimum and avoided the maximum he could. But then I dropped the Satellite TV observation on him and he got quiet.
He told me that it is now too late for him to hold back the truth anymore. Before, he had to lie to keep me safe but now there’s no choice for him but to tell me the truth because I was exposing too many holes in his story, and that was even more dangerous. Unfortunately, I now know why.
Brian’s explanations, apparently, where lies. All of them. In fact, Denise had told him everything he knew about me and together they tailored a story that I had the biggest chance in believing. And…they did all of that to protect me.
The first thing Brian told me was to remember that this is my safehouse and that it is already proven that the stalker could not enter it. He told me to be very aware of it, and to be sure that it could never change.
And then…the really disturbing part came. They had no idea what that stalker was. All they knew is that it couldn’t enter a place…if the person that was being stalked, truly believed it.
And I did, until now, but the moment they told me that, I felt my whole world was on the brink of shattering.
Steven got the stalker only a few years ago when he traveled in Ireland and accidentally entered a wrong hotel room, where he found a dead body hanging. The police arrived and the whole thing turned out to be suicide, and thus the stalker was attached to Steven. There was never an area 51 event. Steven was not even in the army. No 5 soldiers. No UFO. Nothing. Brian accidentally found that this creature, or whatever it was, responded to belief. He used it to protect Steven without telling him. But Steven found out about two years later. He did not make it long after. 3 months later, Steven got out on the porch of the house on 116 and shot himself in the head.

2/15/2016 – 20:20
I’ve been living in this madness for two years now.
I am not writing much anymore. Mostly because I’m too concentrated on not vocalizing or giving hold to my fears. I’m doing daily mental exercises to fortify my belief that this thing cannot enter my house.
In fact, I know it can’t enter my house.
It’s just that things can change much more easily than I thought before. If my trust would break, even for once, even for one moment, that thing will be inside. And then, never again will I be able to make a new safehouse.
I feel like my fears have been accumulating this whole time, and that the bubble will sometime burst.
Paradoxically painting terrifying paintings helps. It’s like I’m setting my fears free and letting them go. I’m practicing my mental exercises very hard and all-day long. I’m managing not to think anything that could make me less sure of the safety of my house, but sometimes, like once or twice a week I feel like I have to let the steam out. So I paint.
I usually paint shadows, in horrifying shapes and angles. And every time I finish a painting I throw it in the fireplace and watch it burn. It gives me a weird and warm fuzzy feeling.
I asked Denise to put warning signs around the house. Just in case I end up like his old man.

3/02/2018 – 21:23
I FUCKED UP BIG!!!~
OMG I CANT BELIEVE what happened today!!!! God help me!!
MY damn painting! How could I not burn it as usual??!
I ordered food, and the delivery came. Densie usually helps me but he couldn’t this time so I used the grocery stores delivery services. A yong guy came withmy food bags. The delivery car stood behind him with its headlights facing my way. I let him open the outer door and I noticed at the last second the inner one wasn’t totally closed. Ithink I managed to close it a split second before he opend the outer one, but I wasn’t sure, and this made me a bit unsure of my safehouse. I immediately started my mental exercise. And precisely at that moment the delivery guy said “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING BEHIND YOU?”
In that moment I knew: I was doomed.
I felt my eyes open wide and grabbed my flashlight. I turned around…just to discover the guy looking at a huge horrible painting of a shadowy figure. It was the last painting I made and didn’t burn yet…he was talking about the damn painting
But my belief was broken. As I continued to turn my flashlight around, next the painting I saw it. A huge shadow. As if a person was standing just an arm’s length away from me. And it was inside the house.
Closer to me than ever

All of this was a few minutes ago
Or maybe a few hours ago
That thing is standing right behind me. I can feel it. I no longer need to look at it. I can feel it getting closer to me by the second.
I cant take it anymore. My spirit is broken. My soul is broken.
I cant take it anymore
There is only one more thing I have to do. Just endure this for a few more minutes. Im putting a link to my journal entries on the warning sign so that anyone who arrives here can find my story on the internet
If anyone finds this, please
I do not want you to endure what I have endured!!
please
PLEASE
DO NOT ENTER THIS HOUSE
DO NOT ENTER 9 TWIN LAKES ROAD

 

CREDIT : Reuven A.

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Ghost Photo: Spirit Animals

by cnkguy
Ghost Photo: Spirit Animals

Does this photo show ghostly horses at England’s Berry Pomeroy Castle?

Built in the late 15th century, the Tudor-era castle is now a tourist attraction. And like many castles, Berry Pomeroy has a reputation for being haunted. Legend has it two brothers took their lives by riding their horses off the castle rampart rather than surrender to enemy invaders. Today, many visitors claim to hear moans and screams in the area of the castle known as Pomeroy’s Leap. Recently, a group of teens exploring the grounds late at night claim to have captured photographic proof of castle spirits.

“We went in the early hours of this morning and the image was taken just before 1 a.m.,” said one of the trespassing teens. “Lots of people think it’s horses chasing someone, which I 100% believe. I have always been skeptical about ghosts, but this photo is enough to make me believe.”

What do you think of the image? Is it ghosts or something more easily explained?

Have a ghost photo to share? Send it ghostsghoul@gmail.com!

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Ghost and Ghouls


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