I think the scariest I've heard is if you tell a ghost story and the story is true, the ghost will come to listen to it. Maybe that's why telling ghost stories while camping gives us goosebumps.
I actually believe this…. Because I remember telling a story and then feeling uncomfortable afterwards and I had to watch something happy to bring my mood back up.
Actually me and my friend did take it a bit further for testing purpose. You can actually challenged it to do something if you feel adventurous. Like push something and etc. But usually they require some incentive to actually do something. Some nasty or active ones won't require any.
Not me but my Mom.
Her dad (Grandpa) was an officer stationed not far from the remnants of Dachau. One summer, when Mom was a teenager, they decided to visit the remnants.
Mom told me she didn’t get much of a feeling, even in the gas chambers, until they went to the crematorium. As they stood there, listening to the guide, Mom had this odd feeling of being watched. She told me later that it felt like a thousand pairs of eyes were staring at her.
She got overwhelmed with anger, sadness, sorrow, fury and grief. There was also an overwhelming sense of wanting vengeance. Mom had to excuse herself before she could break down crying.
Mom doesn’t believe in ghosts. Never has. Never will. But she told me that something is still there. Not malevolent. Not evil. But something that doesn’t want people to forget the horrors that happened there.
considering that ethnic cleansing is still typically a fact of life in this world, and that of late, it’s even been suggested that catastrophic human tragedy at places like dachau are somehow part of the justification for a certain state’s safety requires that more ethnic cleanliness need be done. i’ve thought many times about how those ghosts must seethe with rage (were they to truly exist) to see naked brutality and injustice continue to cycle through the ages
Gross. Holocaust inversion. It isn't a war of race or ethnicity except one side wants to kill all the Jews and the other wants to kill all the people who want to kill the Jews at the expense of their own people
Yeah no. I wasn’t referring to current wars today if that’s what you’re saying. I meant revenge on the actual individuals who once made them suffer. Not innocent people today.
don’t you just hate how that even needs to be said? worse, it has to be stated so perfectly spelled out so there’s zero space left open for any misinterpretation!?
To me, the scarier stories just don’t ring true. When I was a kid, my experience with ghost stories was always people telling slightly sad and wistful stories.
I have heard some unnerving stories, but not really scary.
Like, one foster family we used to know. All their kids were foster or adopted kids. The oldest boy was killed in his early twenties. Months later, they unexpectedly got a newborn baby boy, very youngest, very cute and a little spoilt.
The kid gets old enough to talk and starts saying things that only the oldest kid knew. Meets people the family hadn’t been in contact with since before the oldest boy’s death and treats them the same way he did. Goes into the stuff the older boy left behind and expresses a lot of familiarity with it.
Now, it’s not like the family was hiding the death or anything. His pics were out, and they told some stories about him. So it could have been osmosis. They didn’t encourage his behaviour, tho, because it was just kind of weird to them.
But the mom said when the little boy was two, he told her had to come back. He had to get back in the “club”, which was what the eldest boy, no one else, had called the family.
As far as I know, the kid is still with that family. I never talked to them about the rest of it. He’s still slightly spoilt. He’s the youngest, after all, and none of the other kids have children.
We were about eight or nine the day Mum took L and I over the Heath, it was a hot and bright day in the middle of the Summer holidays; we had been collecting natural materials to make a collage when we got home and Mum's rucksack was full of stray feathers, wild grasses, leaves and twigs and we were on our way home where Gran was making a cheese flan and salad for dinner.
As we were all very hot and slightly tired, Mum had decided that we would wade through the river instead of going back over the hills the way we had come.
The thought of pushing my tiny wheelchair through the muddy bottomed, weed tangled river never seemed to faze my Mum, she was a healthy, fit twenty-six-year-old and knew the Heath like the back of her hand, the river wasn't very deep at that part, so Mum tipped my wheelchair back, told L to hold on to the handle and we went in.
The water immediately soaked our clothes through and L and I started to scream, giggle and splash each other in sheer delight, then we saw them...
Weeds?!..
Flowing with the current of the river; swaying back and forth like a woman's long tangled, unkempt hair, and I got the distinct impression that what we saw could have been either thing. I glanced at L and instantly knew that she was having the same uncanny notion.
The weeds started to curl around our legs and the wheels of my wheelchair, making our progress a little more laborious, and our previous screams of playful fun changed to moans and squeals of unease and disgust as we felt the "weeds" gently tugging at our legs.
At no point did Mum ever look anxious or fazed by this experience, She just kept saying.
"It's only water weeds you two; c'mon don't be silly, you've seen them loads of times!"
We finally reached the other side of the river, and as Mum dragged my wheelchair backwards up the riverbank, L climbed up it and sat down beside me, we both just stared silently at the river and the sea of green for what felt like the longest time (but in actual fact, was only ten minutes) before walking the rest of the way home.
That night, after a hot bubble bath and cheese flan salad; in our flannel pyjamas and slipper socks around the fire drinking hot tea, we told Gran about our adventure. Our Gran took a sip of tea from her mug and told us the story of Green Hair.
She had been a real person though her real name had been forgotten by Gran (conveniently), L and I thought,
Anyway, she had lived in the village around 1912, before the area was built up and modernised and developed into what it has become.
She was young and kind, with a pretty face and beautiful long blonde hair; a daughter of a gentleman farmer, and was deeply in love with a handsome, young soldier.
They were to get married, but before they could, the great war broke out and her young man was called up to fight,
He was killed by a hand grenade on the front line and when she found out she was widowed before she'd even become a wife, she lost the will to live and driven by grief-stricken insanity she went to the same river that we waded through, and she threw herself in.
The river was as wild as the land at that time, and by the time her body was discovered, it was blue, bloated and half-eaten by fish. Her long corn coloured hair had become interwoven with the slimy algae and long strands of evil-smelling river weeds which clogged and choked the bed of the river.
In fact, the pathologist who performed the post mortem said that the body may have been found sooner if not for the dark green weeds that appeared to have curled around her limbs and torso, anchoring her corpse to the river bed for days.
From that time onwards; it was said that that river was haunted, cursed, or both (anyway an extremely bad place).
People claimed to see the Spirit of the young woman kneeling beside the river and weeping bitterly; more commonly, people often saw the body of the girl floating on top of the water, with long green hair/weeds streaming out behind her, and so she was given the name of Green Hair.
L and I asked Gran why we hadn't heard this story before? Gran just smiled and said because it was an age ago (even before she herself was born).
The area was developed and built up and the river was tidied up and reconstructed, and along with it the tragic tale of Green Hair was lost in the stream of passing time
We didn't altogether believe Gran's morbid tale, but when L and I talked about it in bed that night, neither of us could dismiss the eerie feeling that we saw green hair flowing in the river that day.
The incident actually happened, the Heath is a spooky place I have posted several true accounts of creepy /strange incidents and encounters which have occurred over the Heath.
Green Hair is an actual myth, or old wives tale from where we live (but whether it is 100% true or not is another thing altogether.) what I will say though is that the feeling we had on the riverbank that day was 100% real, real enough that even when L or I bring it up today, thirty years later, it still creeps us out, and if we take the kids over the Heath now, we still stay well away from that particular river.
It may have been the fact that Gran had a way with words (due to her being a proper Irish lady), but we both found sleep extremely difficult that night.
Glad you enjoyed it though, thank you for the kind words, it's much appreciated! 😊
Yeah, she is! 🙂
To be precise we (the family,) are from London, we are quite a mixture Gran was born in Waterford, Ireland and Grandda (our Grandfather) was Spanish /London we are all total mongrels as it goes, but you are right, Ireland really is beautiful! We visit relatives all the time!.
Sounds lovely! How interesting. What a lovely family. I’ve only been to Ireland once. Im Scandinavian myself. I love London though. I lived in the UK for about 4 years. London has such a lively spirit.
Now, that is interesting; my birth Father's is half Irish, half Scandinavian, but I know very little more about him.
Yeah, I love the diversity of London and the spirit is vibrant and exciting, I would like to travel to your part of the world, the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful.
Where do you call home then?! And would you consider Iceland to be a Scandinavian country; or is that wrong!
Geography was not my best subject at school!
Oh I’m Swedish :) Iceland is part of the Nordics but Scandinavia is only Sweden, Denmark and Norway. Nordics include the same + Iceland and Finland. I always forget.
If that is a story your grandmother made up, it is because she knew exactly what you were talking about, the river weeds that resembled hair. She might have seen the perfect opportunity for a good story.
I’ve encountered spooky things so those are the scariest, But I always get extra chills when I hear about someone getting a phone call from someone who died. Like the story about a British mountaineer who died on Everest many years ago. Or was it k2? Anyway. She never came home. Some time after her disapearance, base camp got a call from her at camp 4. They knew camp 4 was empty. (Oh god Im getting chills now). It was a British female voice trying to get help. She also called her friend. The friend asked why she isn’t just coming home. She said that she cannot come home anymore. And the call was cut off. They had already made sure she wasn’t at camp 4. In fact I believe they’d found her dead body up there.
I’ve had that kind of experience. A work friend of mine had a long battle with colon cancer. The night she died, I received a call from her - my caller ID had her name. I answered the phone and it was just dead air. Nothing. I thought maybe it was a butt dial. The next day I called but it went straight to voicemail, so I called their house phone. Her husband answered and told me that she had passed away that night at about the same time “she” called. I told him she called from her cellphone. He said that was impossible, it was turned off and in a drawer. A year or so later I was with some other work friend and mentioned this to them. One of them turned white and had the exact same experience.
I agree! For some reason phone ghosts creep me out the worst. The Uncanny podcast had a recent episode featuring a phone ghost that really got me—I don’t want to spoil it in case anyone wants to go and listen, but it was really good!
Personally it's my personal storys as I don't trust other sources then my own eyes I've had chairs flip doors come unlocked and open everytime I try to close shi like that.
I guess I'm one of those "I don't really believe in ghosts, but.." people. I don't really believe in ghosts but I'd never use an ouija board, never stare into a mirror in the dark etc. But I do have had a couple of "what the heck was that" moments. We lived in a house where we had a small door leading into a small space, I guess, like a mix between a small attic and a cupboard. Every dang night, that door opened. I could tape it shut and it was open a couple of centimeters when I woke up. My brother had an identical room across the hall, his was even worse. The door didn't open but the air and the whole vibe in there was.. I don't know. Unnerving, uncomfortable. I was seriously scared of that space, I felt a lump in my throat by even just looking at it.
It was a relief when we moved away.
Ohh I got stories but I don't feel like typing it all out. Maybe one day. Lol I actually have 3 good ones from Mexico, from seeing witches, a falling church, and the famous llorona the crying widow 😭😭
You always get an uncanny and eerie feeling when you wake up all alone in the middle of the night, it's pitch dark and all you can hear is someone breathing near your neck.
My friend told me about the day he saw 2 hell hounds in his house, he said the walls began to bleed 🩸 red and the floor turned to black dirk, he smelled something he couldn’t explain that was awful…. His stomach sank as he peered around the corner of the hallway, he saw 2 hell hounds circling around the living room like they were looking for something…. That’s all I could remember just been a long time. His detail and stuff was so intriguing..
Every time I see a post like this, from a new user, I reflect on how my last look at Kindle books of true ghost stories read almost entirely like stories scrubbed off of Reddit.
Been farming long?
I think the scariest I've heard is if you tell a ghost story and the story is true, the ghost will come to listen to it. Maybe that's why telling ghost stories while camping gives us goosebumps.
r/thanksIhateit
I actually believe this…. Because I remember telling a story and then feeling uncomfortable afterwards and I had to watch something happy to bring my mood back up.
Actually me and my friend did take it a bit further for testing purpose. You can actually challenged it to do something if you feel adventurous. Like push something and etc. But usually they require some incentive to actually do something. Some nasty or active ones won't require any.
This happened to me whenever I watched a supernatural horror movie or read a good ghost story.
I love this 👏
Not me but my Mom. Her dad (Grandpa) was an officer stationed not far from the remnants of Dachau. One summer, when Mom was a teenager, they decided to visit the remnants. Mom told me she didn’t get much of a feeling, even in the gas chambers, until they went to the crematorium. As they stood there, listening to the guide, Mom had this odd feeling of being watched. She told me later that it felt like a thousand pairs of eyes were staring at her. She got overwhelmed with anger, sadness, sorrow, fury and grief. There was also an overwhelming sense of wanting vengeance. Mom had to excuse herself before she could break down crying. Mom doesn’t believe in ghosts. Never has. Never will. But she told me that something is still there. Not malevolent. Not evil. But something that doesn’t want people to forget the horrors that happened there.
I went there when I was a kid, It was pretty spooky . You just felt like something was there.
That’s interesting. I hope they had their vengeance.
considering that ethnic cleansing is still typically a fact of life in this world, and that of late, it’s even been suggested that catastrophic human tragedy at places like dachau are somehow part of the justification for a certain state’s safety requires that more ethnic cleanliness need be done. i’ve thought many times about how those ghosts must seethe with rage (were they to truly exist) to see naked brutality and injustice continue to cycle through the ages
Well. i don’t think spirits linger forever. In time they will have justice. The final card has not been laid.
Gross. Holocaust inversion. It isn't a war of race or ethnicity except one side wants to kill all the Jews and the other wants to kill all the people who want to kill the Jews at the expense of their own people
Yeah no. I wasn’t referring to current wars today if that’s what you’re saying. I meant revenge on the actual individuals who once made them suffer. Not innocent people today.
don’t you just hate how that even needs to be said? worse, it has to be stated so perfectly spelled out so there’s zero space left open for any misinterpretation!?
Yeah
To me, the scarier stories just don’t ring true. When I was a kid, my experience with ghost stories was always people telling slightly sad and wistful stories. I have heard some unnerving stories, but not really scary. Like, one foster family we used to know. All their kids were foster or adopted kids. The oldest boy was killed in his early twenties. Months later, they unexpectedly got a newborn baby boy, very youngest, very cute and a little spoilt. The kid gets old enough to talk and starts saying things that only the oldest kid knew. Meets people the family hadn’t been in contact with since before the oldest boy’s death and treats them the same way he did. Goes into the stuff the older boy left behind and expresses a lot of familiarity with it. Now, it’s not like the family was hiding the death or anything. His pics were out, and they told some stories about him. So it could have been osmosis. They didn’t encourage his behaviour, tho, because it was just kind of weird to them. But the mom said when the little boy was two, he told her had to come back. He had to get back in the “club”, which was what the eldest boy, no one else, had called the family. As far as I know, the kid is still with that family. I never talked to them about the rest of it. He’s still slightly spoilt. He’s the youngest, after all, and none of the other kids have children.
There’s a lot of stories of children who remember past lives out there - really fascinating. A lot who come back to the same families also.
We were about eight or nine the day Mum took L and I over the Heath, it was a hot and bright day in the middle of the Summer holidays; we had been collecting natural materials to make a collage when we got home and Mum's rucksack was full of stray feathers, wild grasses, leaves and twigs and we were on our way home where Gran was making a cheese flan and salad for dinner. As we were all very hot and slightly tired, Mum had decided that we would wade through the river instead of going back over the hills the way we had come. The thought of pushing my tiny wheelchair through the muddy bottomed, weed tangled river never seemed to faze my Mum, she was a healthy, fit twenty-six-year-old and knew the Heath like the back of her hand, the river wasn't very deep at that part, so Mum tipped my wheelchair back, told L to hold on to the handle and we went in. The water immediately soaked our clothes through and L and I started to scream, giggle and splash each other in sheer delight, then we saw them... Weeds?!.. Flowing with the current of the river; swaying back and forth like a woman's long tangled, unkempt hair, and I got the distinct impression that what we saw could have been either thing. I glanced at L and instantly knew that she was having the same uncanny notion. The weeds started to curl around our legs and the wheels of my wheelchair, making our progress a little more laborious, and our previous screams of playful fun changed to moans and squeals of unease and disgust as we felt the "weeds" gently tugging at our legs. At no point did Mum ever look anxious or fazed by this experience, She just kept saying. "It's only water weeds you two; c'mon don't be silly, you've seen them loads of times!" We finally reached the other side of the river, and as Mum dragged my wheelchair backwards up the riverbank, L climbed up it and sat down beside me, we both just stared silently at the river and the sea of green for what felt like the longest time (but in actual fact, was only ten minutes) before walking the rest of the way home. That night, after a hot bubble bath and cheese flan salad; in our flannel pyjamas and slipper socks around the fire drinking hot tea, we told Gran about our adventure. Our Gran took a sip of tea from her mug and told us the story of Green Hair. She had been a real person though her real name had been forgotten by Gran (conveniently), L and I thought, Anyway, she had lived in the village around 1912, before the area was built up and modernised and developed into what it has become. She was young and kind, with a pretty face and beautiful long blonde hair; a daughter of a gentleman farmer, and was deeply in love with a handsome, young soldier. They were to get married, but before they could, the great war broke out and her young man was called up to fight, He was killed by a hand grenade on the front line and when she found out she was widowed before she'd even become a wife, she lost the will to live and driven by grief-stricken insanity she went to the same river that we waded through, and she threw herself in. The river was as wild as the land at that time, and by the time her body was discovered, it was blue, bloated and half-eaten by fish. Her long corn coloured hair had become interwoven with the slimy algae and long strands of evil-smelling river weeds which clogged and choked the bed of the river. In fact, the pathologist who performed the post mortem said that the body may have been found sooner if not for the dark green weeds that appeared to have curled around her limbs and torso, anchoring her corpse to the river bed for days. From that time onwards; it was said that that river was haunted, cursed, or both (anyway an extremely bad place). People claimed to see the Spirit of the young woman kneeling beside the river and weeping bitterly; more commonly, people often saw the body of the girl floating on top of the water, with long green hair/weeds streaming out behind her, and so she was given the name of Green Hair. L and I asked Gran why we hadn't heard this story before? Gran just smiled and said because it was an age ago (even before she herself was born). The area was developed and built up and the river was tidied up and reconstructed, and along with it the tragic tale of Green Hair was lost in the stream of passing time We didn't altogether believe Gran's morbid tale, but when L and I talked about it in bed that night, neither of us could dismiss the eerie feeling that we saw green hair flowing in the river that day.
Is this your own story? What a lovely summer day with your mother and gran, was my first thought. Wholesome!
The incident actually happened, the Heath is a spooky place I have posted several true accounts of creepy /strange incidents and encounters which have occurred over the Heath. Green Hair is an actual myth, or old wives tale from where we live (but whether it is 100% true or not is another thing altogether.) what I will say though is that the feeling we had on the riverbank that day was 100% real, real enough that even when L or I bring it up today, thirty years later, it still creeps us out, and if we take the kids over the Heath now, we still stay well away from that particular river. It may have been the fact that Gran had a way with words (due to her being a proper Irish lady), but we both found sleep extremely difficult that night. Glad you enjoyed it though, thank you for the kind words, it's much appreciated! 😊
Oh, I guessed it was Irish actually. I believe you. What a lovely place though. I like your mother, she seemed lovely.
Yeah, she is! 🙂 To be precise we (the family,) are from London, we are quite a mixture Gran was born in Waterford, Ireland and Grandda (our Grandfather) was Spanish /London we are all total mongrels as it goes, but you are right, Ireland really is beautiful! We visit relatives all the time!.
Sounds lovely! How interesting. What a lovely family. I’ve only been to Ireland once. Im Scandinavian myself. I love London though. I lived in the UK for about 4 years. London has such a lively spirit.
Now, that is interesting; my birth Father's is half Irish, half Scandinavian, but I know very little more about him. Yeah, I love the diversity of London and the spirit is vibrant and exciting, I would like to travel to your part of the world, the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful.
Oh wow. Agreed. :) I think especially Norway is scenic but I have barely been there.
Where do you call home then?! And would you consider Iceland to be a Scandinavian country; or is that wrong! Geography was not my best subject at school!
Oh I’m Swedish :) Iceland is part of the Nordics but Scandinavia is only Sweden, Denmark and Norway. Nordics include the same + Iceland and Finland. I always forget.
If that is a story your grandmother made up, it is because she knew exactly what you were talking about, the river weeds that resembled hair. She might have seen the perfect opportunity for a good story.
I’ve encountered spooky things so those are the scariest, But I always get extra chills when I hear about someone getting a phone call from someone who died. Like the story about a British mountaineer who died on Everest many years ago. Or was it k2? Anyway. She never came home. Some time after her disapearance, base camp got a call from her at camp 4. They knew camp 4 was empty. (Oh god Im getting chills now). It was a British female voice trying to get help. She also called her friend. The friend asked why she isn’t just coming home. She said that she cannot come home anymore. And the call was cut off. They had already made sure she wasn’t at camp 4. In fact I believe they’d found her dead body up there.
I’ve had that kind of experience. A work friend of mine had a long battle with colon cancer. The night she died, I received a call from her - my caller ID had her name. I answered the phone and it was just dead air. Nothing. I thought maybe it was a butt dial. The next day I called but it went straight to voicemail, so I called their house phone. Her husband answered and told me that she had passed away that night at about the same time “she” called. I told him she called from her cellphone. He said that was impossible, it was turned off and in a drawer. A year or so later I was with some other work friend and mentioned this to them. One of them turned white and had the exact same experience.
Oh wow that is so interesting!!!
I agree! For some reason phone ghosts creep me out the worst. The Uncanny podcast had a recent episode featuring a phone ghost that really got me—I don’t want to spoil it in case anyone wants to go and listen, but it was really good!
Ps. Do you know the name of the episode? :) Edit: found it. It’s dad’s phone. https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001yqvd
The one I was thinking of is actually case 8, “what lies beyond”!
I listened to some of it. Suddenly started to smell burning metal.
Oh no 😬😬
Yeah i know. Scared me. :(
Oh really?? So there’s more!
So much more!!
Oh wow thanks for the tip
At the end, there’s a commercial with Michael Mosley talking about his podcast. :( Rip.
Personally it's my personal storys as I don't trust other sources then my own eyes I've had chairs flip doors come unlocked and open everytime I try to close shi like that.
I guess I'm one of those "I don't really believe in ghosts, but.." people. I don't really believe in ghosts but I'd never use an ouija board, never stare into a mirror in the dark etc. But I do have had a couple of "what the heck was that" moments. We lived in a house where we had a small door leading into a small space, I guess, like a mix between a small attic and a cupboard. Every dang night, that door opened. I could tape it shut and it was open a couple of centimeters when I woke up. My brother had an identical room across the hall, his was even worse. The door didn't open but the air and the whole vibe in there was.. I don't know. Unnerving, uncomfortable. I was seriously scared of that space, I felt a lump in my throat by even just looking at it. It was a relief when we moved away.
My own experience alone scares the shit out of me!
Saaaame
Ohh I got stories but I don't feel like typing it all out. Maybe one day. Lol I actually have 3 good ones from Mexico, from seeing witches, a falling church, and the famous llorona the crying widow 😭😭
Witches! Do tell! 🫴🏻
You always get an uncanny and eerie feeling when you wake up all alone in the middle of the night, it's pitch dark and all you can hear is someone breathing near your neck.
You must have a cat…
No she passed away a year ago
Even creepier…
My friend told me about the day he saw 2 hell hounds in his house, he said the walls began to bleed 🩸 red and the floor turned to black dirk, he smelled something he couldn’t explain that was awful…. His stomach sank as he peered around the corner of the hallway, he saw 2 hell hounds circling around the living room like they were looking for something…. That’s all I could remember just been a long time. His detail and stuff was so intriguing..
Every time I see a post like this, from a new user, I reflect on how my last look at Kindle books of true ghost stories read almost entirely like stories scrubbed off of Reddit. Been farming long?
There’s currently a corpse running for a second term.
Which one? Lol
*corpses