Posted January 13, 2006 I believe you Mr Wes (i may have told this story before, forget). I once saw a ghost when i was just coming out of the bathroom (my bedroom is just to the right of being opposite the bathroom door) Anyway i was on my way downstairs and in saw an old man, standing in my bedroom doorway. He was wearing a green flat cap, white shirt, wastecoat and those green felt trousers like courogated stuff. For some reason i wasnt scared and i carried on walking down the landing. A few days later i mentioned it to my mum and she asked what i thought his name might be, so i said he looks a fredrick or george. And i turns out my great grandad was called George Fredrick. ....When i think about it now i feel scared of meeting him again, wierd huh? Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 I think I remember Chris the Great had an interesting ghost encounter a while back, don't remember what happened though :P Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 i have also a ghostly bathroom tale to tell. One night I woke up. I needed to whizz. This isn't normally a character-shattering performance, I'll hasten to add, but nonetheless the scene has been set. I start my story with a quick game of hide-and-seek with my slippers which nearly results in a quick game of let's-headbut-the-wall-shall-we? A cold May's night, as dark as it ever gets when you're half-asleep and half-naked... My dressing gown met me half way out of the room. In my dreary state I wandered down the hall, in that state of mind where your brain's still rebooting, on autopilot. Sort of like in the terminator when you see through the machines eyes and all that data is flicking up the screen - but seemingly making no difference to arnold's progress. It felt like that, like I was watching my own life unreel from the cool darkness of the cinema. light switch... red carpet... walls... ceiling... gliding six year old... radiator... Washing horse... Wait... For a moment it was like watching a movie in reverse. I stood for a few heartbeats, to let the adrenaline hit me, to feel the kick of seratonin as my chest pounded me into a wide awake, non-vegetated state. Watching the end credits roll back up again. It was almost an unconscious feeling, and although it was brief i knew exactly what had happened. She was clearly a dead person. It felt more like instinct than rational deduction, but it all made sense. She looked like she had just floated straight out of The Others, or an old photograph of a relative who would probably be dead today anyway. Her hair was made up like it was the first body through the parlour on a busy sunday - long curls with a bow holding it together, and a sombre look that would make a party out of any funeral. Except hers, probably. I didn't even turn around, I sort of knew that she wouldn't be there, and if she was i sort of knew that i didn't want to see it. There's no canned laughter in real life, but there's this sort of soundtrack of fear that every once in a while you tune into. Autopilot took over again and guided me to another interval in the moment - The bathroom. The reason why some of cinema's most frightning scenes occur in these places is because of their uniform serenity. The generic appearance of the stainless ceramics, off-white decor combined with the lack of furnishings to cushion sound gives the place an eerie sound. Silence is different in bathrooms. Psycho, Final Destination, The Shining. The rooms are almost interchangable. Stepping into this shit-hole is close to stepping into a portal to every other bathroom out there. It's one of those rooms which amplify your emotion that you enter with. Feel secure and the room will seem protective, strong and secure. Feeling fragile and it can seem grating, offensive. The sharp edges visually attack you. My bathroom was in the middle of being done-up. This meant several layers of old wallpaper had peeled through. The only thing that can be more frightening than a generic toilet is one that just freaks you the fuck out. Even if you were the most unparanoid guy on the planet, right then that bathroom would have had you shitting clowns. The floor was so cold, my slippers felt like they wre walking on glass thousands of miles above the world. Perhaps it was all in my head, but I was feeling a little freaked out about now. Then I started noticing things. Out of the corner of my eye, for just the tiniest split of a second, I could see something runny and glistening. It looked like a red puddle coming from under my bath. It felt like I had taken a wrong turn on the way to waking life and ended up... In a bathroom. As soon as i noticed it I experienced one of those panging fears, like a bad radio ad with a catchy jingle I almost enjoyed it. That'll be the anti-fear dope my pituary gland was shitting into my bloodstream. My eyes darted towards the bath but before they got there they noticed some more crimson shimmering from under the radiator. The fear was deafening. The silence was echoing off the cold walls. What the fuck was going on? My bladder didn't care. I got on with the job in hand, suddenly realising that it's only like 3am and i'm going to have to try get some more sleep after this. I'm going to have to walk back down that fucking corridor. The last drips came and, as I re-zipped, I noticed this. The floor was covered in newspapers. And this. A footprint. Facing exactly the way I hadn't faced yet. Did I mention that I was staying home alone that night? No, I wouldn't have, because that heart-sinking fact only hit me around now. I decided I'd do what any other sensible teenager in my position would have done. I made a course of action - to get underneath my bedsheets and stay there shrieking until the morning. I kept sensing blood oozing from those two places, the feeling would intensify if i looked directly at them - at the empty, bloodless regions. If there was actually blood there, I don't think I would have been too freaked out. At least I'd be able to take a cool picture of it and show all my friends that - see! I'm not crazy anymore. ... I don't remember the rest of that night. Nothing like that has happened since. Perhaps because I tend to not go to the bathroom at three in the morning anymore, but i don't think that matters. I'm not sure what I saw, not sure what I believe. All I know is that I now have a ghost story to tell. A few days later, we had some builder's come to finish the bathroom. They tore away a fake wall behind the radiator in order to provide a more secure base for the tiles to adhere to. Check out what they found. Needless to say, I didn't open the door. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 Jesus, that was like a novel. also, open the door! open the door! open the door! then tell us whats inside... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 Jesus, that was like a novel. also, open the door! open the door! open the door! then tell us whats inside... Quad bikes! QUAD BIKES! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 I like the angle you've taken the pic from, makes it look omg its bigger than me! *scared* I would have had to know what was behind it, though there would be no fucking way i'd be opening it and looking in first. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 A whole load of stuffI demand you open the door, I have to know what's behind it. Get a load of other people and do it together. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 Ho, thats abit freaky. Yeah, you should really get some people over and do it. I bet you, money on it... theres a body in there :p Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 13, 2006 Actually, i ahve a story of friendly ghosts.(this is true, according to our RE teach) A guy was driving along a thin road at night, he looked in the rear view mirror and saw an old woman sitting int he back. He screeched to a halt and tunred around, there was no-one there, and he didnt recognise the image he had seen. Just then a huge combine harvester came round the corner, if she hadn't hadn't appeared he would've gone head-first into it. Then he arrived at his mum's house and saw a picutre of and old lady on the mantlepeice, the old lady he saw in the car. He aseked who it was and his mum said it was his great grandma thats freaky,his great grandma saving his life,if that happened to me i might end up crashing. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 14, 2006 Just masturbate really furiously, it will all go away. umm thats a very interesting solution... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 14, 2006 Needless to say, I didn't open the door. You're going to need some dynamite for that door, just make sure there are no numbers written on it first. Though I agree with everyone else, open teh door to hell! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 14, 2006 Nutter ..................................... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Posted January 14, 2006 Sadly I don't believe in ghosts. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
