Ghosts

[Goring Gull]

Do you believe in ghosts and if so do you have any ghoulish tales too tell?

 

[Superphil]

We used to have a ghost at our last house, we were only the 2nd people to live there, the original owners having built the house in 1964 and lived in it untill their passing. We used to regularly hear Mrs Phelps (Rosemarie) walking around upstairs in our bedroom when we were downstairs. We would also be aware of her presence in other rooms, hear her moving about, I'd think the missus had walked in from work, but when I went to the door, she had not arrived yet, but I was certain I'd hear the door go. Also, I have an oil painting of a nude, it was always being pushed askew on the wall, we think as a protest by Mrs Phelps due to the nature of the image. The picture was nowhere near any window, door or draught.

After we did a major extension on the house we heard her less and less, we think she approved of what we did, and moved on.

 

[n1 gull]

NO don't be so bloody childish, vampires on the other hand..

 

[Scotty Mac]

my uni house was haunted by a lovely chap who we presumed was a bloke called hobbsy who died in the first world war. he would often turn the electric off for no reason, bang up and down the stairs, knock things off shelves and generally make his presence known, particularly in the bathroom

 

[brighton_girl87]

Nope I don't believe in them. Although when I was at Hoddern Juniors School in Peacehaven everyone said the library was haunted and the stuffed animals came to life at night, one day (when I was about 8) I went in there on my own and was convinced I saw the stuffed Owl wink at me

 

[Twinkle Toes]

Nope I don't believe in them. Although when I was at Hoddern Juniors School in Peacehaven everyone said the library was haunted and the stuffed animals came to life at night, one day (when I was about 8) I went in there on my own and was convinced I saw the stuffed Owl wink at me

I imagine you felt a bit of a TWIT.

 

[The Antikythera Mechanism]

I have a theory about what happens after we die;

If the age of the universe is 13.75 billion years and the average life expectancy of a human being is 80 years then the current ratio of the human time line to that of the universe is 1:171,875,000, or 1 second of human existence corresponding to 5.45 years of total time elapsed to date. I theorise that when we depart our human existence we will convert to time as measured by the expanding universe, therefore if early civilised man died 10,900 years ago, by his new frame of reference he has only been dead for 34 minutes. Therefore i surmise that if we do experience some form of reincarnation it will not just be a reunion with our ancestors, but an almost instantaneous joining with our future descendents as well.

So, no, I don't believe in ghosts.

 

[The Grockle]

I was once in a park where I grew up playing a sort of army/british bulldog game at about four in the morning.

myself and about six mates had a rest in an old monk's graveyard slightly inebriated and stoned, we were making a right racket, the graveyard was overlooked by a large 300 plus year old building…. Suddenly I notice one of the lights in the building come on very dim, I thought nothing of it until in noticed my friends face drop, moments later he exclaimed ‘there’s someone at the window’ two of my mates just legged it screaming….

No word of a lie in the large window was a man dressed in old fashioned attire with a huge top hat, staring back at me… needless to say I didn’t hang around for long.

 

[Norman Baker suck my lozenge]

I believe in ghosts,I think they come to us in our dreams.

 

[brighton_girl87]

I imagine you felt a bit of a TWIT.

That's very TWOO

 

[Ecosse Exile]

When i was dating my ex-wife, we were having a kiss and a cuddle after work, she said "i love you", the words came out of her mouth sort of in stereo, like if two people say the same thing at the same time, anyway we both crapped it and i took her home. I parked the car at the end of her drive and we heard her mum calling her name "asking is that you?", my ex even replied yeah "i'll be in in a minute" and headed in.
The following day she asked if i had heard her mum calling last night?, i had. She then told me that her mum was in bed asleep when she got in but in the morning her mum told her that before she went to sleep, she had been sat on the end of her bed talking to her mum (my ex's Nan), who had died about 5 years previous.

 

[Goring Gull]

My Nan used to live in second floor flat at the end of Mardale Road in Worthing and as kids my Sister and I would sometimes stay overnight. My Nan used to tell us there was a ghost that would bang the door and walk up three steps then silence - My Uncle who lived tehre at the time told us that our Nan was trying to scare us. However one night when my sister and i were there, albeit alsleep in the middle of the night we heard our Uncle jump out of his room and race to the stairs. We got up and so did our nan. Our uncle was shaking saying he could have sworn he heard someone shut the door and start coming up the stairs then it just went silent. Too this day our Uncle still believes it was this ghost my Nan used to tell us about.

 

[Kalimantan Gull]

What do you mean, believe in ghosts? Believe that they exist, or believe that people see them?

 

[Mackenzie]

I used to live in the most 'haunted house in Brighton' when I was a child. 27 Upper Rock Gardens, the Georjan guest house, used to belong to my parents. When my dad and grandad were doing the place up, we found the well in the basement that was used to conceal the body of a woman murdered by her husband.....my parents didn't realise the place was haunted when they bought it, or the history of the house and only really looked into this after some Canadian guests of ours left after a couple of days of their planned week stay. We got an apologetic letter several months later saying that the Canadian lady had had an experience with a ghost in one of our bedrooms which had freaked her out so they found somewhere else to stay. I think she was a bit embarrassed to say too much in the letter in case we thought that she was a nutter, we never wrote back to her, I guess we didn't really want to know. Dad says he saw the ghost, and personally I think I saw her once. She was sitting on the end of my bed looking at me when I woke up in the middle of the night. Very frightening for a 10 year old!!! Anyway, we found out about the house in a book called (I think!) Sussex Ghosts or the Sussex Ghost Book. I'm the most cynical person you could meet about 'supernatural' things, but there really was something about that house (and probably still is).

 

[salty seagull]

I have a theory about what happens after we die;

If the age of the universe is 13.75 billion years and the average life expectancy of a human being is 80 years then the current ratio of the human time line to that of the universe is 1:171,875,000, or 1 second of human existence corresponding to 5.45 years of total time elapsed to date. I theorise that when we depart our human existence we will convert to time as measured by the expanding universe, therefore if early civilised man died 10,900 years ago, by his new frame of reference he has only been dead for 34 minutes. Therefore i surmise that if we do experience some form of reincarnation it will not just be a reunion with our ancestors, but an almost instantaneous joining with our future descendents as well.

So, no, I don't believe in ghosts.

Ahhhh Damn it!! you beat me to it,that is exactly what I was going to say

 

[Mackenzie]

I think the building has something to do with ghosts, when we've had a party in one of the rooms in our pub (the room is stone with a stone floor, and used to be a blacksmiths shop) you can go into that room after everyone has left and the room sort of buzzes. I think some rooms seem to hold vibrations of the past


I sound like a nutter don't I

 

[marcos3263]

I lived in a top floor flat in First Avenue some 18 years ago. As part of refurbishment I stripped the walls in the split-level hallway and discoved Victorian wallpaper, as it was interesting, I carefully exposed most of a wall. It was then that the presence came. There were footsteps on the stairs and a real feeling that someone was there. It was so unsettling that it made me lock the front door on more than one occasion (as if that would help!) It was experiences by me and my then girlfriend so it wasnt just the rum (drink of choice at the time). Once the decoration was finished and the wall painted she went away (the ghost not the girlfriend)

 

[Icy Gull]

Our house has a "spirit" in it. One room in particular suddenly feels chilly sometimes, even on a hot day. All my family have noticed weird things in the house, like movement upstairs and a feeling of not being alone in the house, even when we are, but all agree that it seems to be a friendly type of whatever it is so none of us are very bothered about it. Parts of the house do date back to the 18th century so no real surprise that we have a "ghost"

 

[Notters]

Nope, don't "believe" in anything; I'm a scientist.

Well, I do believe in Gus, but that's another matter.

 

[Meade's Ball]

No i don't believe in ghosts, but as true as the sea is blue i had one living in, and haunting unforgivingly, the shed that sat at the foot of the garden of my last abode. I sleep now steadily at night knowing that the sharpening of tools or turning on of reasonably miniature motors nearby will be purely the noise of a mass-murder entering my home with his little, draggable sack of hatchets, icepicks and chainsaws and making plans to bury the pieces of my body. The ghost and i only met truly once. It was a typical Tuesday night, which i now believe, if i believed in ghosts, is the night of all things unholy. Previously, i thought that to be a Wednesday, when if there isn't any football on, is thoroughly boring. He, for the gruffness at the base of his whispery vocals said once of man, said his name was Chester. I tried to silence my guffaw ineffectively and the face i imagined of him bent itself with an uncertain rage. For me, Chester is the name i'd give to a dwarf in a story or a galloping horse with a splintersome fence to high for it to leap. Anyway, Chester told me of his plight. More than anything he spoke of the blandness of the afterlife, that his plans to set up a ghostly union where everyone knew their place and had a patch they could haunt and call their own were rebuffed by Him upstairs. He also missed the retention of a pet he'd chosen to die with. Apparently animals head off to another dimension as they perish, and if any filter through the system by mistake they are actually more powerful than any regular-thinking and slightly mournful human. He said it was very difficult to make friends. Everyone just sought in the first moment of death to relive their favourite moment and when such a wish was impossible to achieve they fed off of the anger the disappointment formed. Chester had gone through that. He'd headed back to his favourite pub, The Whistler, but the darts there that he once drunkenly held and flicked toward the perfect score were unliftable. He quickly worked out that this was God's punishment for a life without note and that only the few, often celebrities and scientists and unsolicitous priests, made it through to that Heavenly land some spoke and wrote of. I doubt it was actually like that, said Chester, with the sirens and the horned equines and fountains full of bitches, but even though dead i still dream. He spent a few months trying his hardest to just get a feel of the feathers, to fling them one last time. He'd even watched Ghost and believed in that bald, but hairy guy on the underground who has the power to toss Patrick Swayze venomously across the train floor, his hair remaining in an unhealthy perfection despite it. Alas, the darts were never his to hold again.
On realisation of this, Chester decided it was best to go to a place he knew to be safe: my shed. He'd seen and heard me chortle as i approached there once, as he floated over head still in his invisible state, spectral only to the most believing eye. He followed me in and watched what i got up to. He thought one day we should meet and become friends and that he could be one of the players in the dramas i coyly and silently wrote of in the shed and tried my best to mouth the words of knowing that no audience viewed. I asked whether he was able to bend and reformat the sight of him i had in order to more successfully become the characters i'd created; the nasty headmaster with the monocle and unrueful grin, the "girl" who'd been held back 6 years already and was looking to finish her GCSEs finally at the age of 22 and had finally allowed to take her daytime breaks in the teacher office to drink coffee and sip gin, 15-year old father of four who'd impregnate with little more than a wink, the terrier that talked, etc. He said no. Not yet at least. It had taken him a decade to be any more than an unsmellable gas wisping undramatically through a society unseen, and only in the last 6 months to have any effect on physical matter now able to rattle chains and shake nearby cutlery and scare cats, who are wrongly thought to be aware of nearing danger. I thought to myself that it must have been Chester who had meddled with the stash of magazines i'd secretly in the shed beneath the unshiftable packets of compost i'd piled high, but it was unmentioned.
We talked into the night, but the more i knew of him the less interested i actually was. And that lack of eyeopeningness seemed to be shared. The jokes i'd made up that i thought i pretty much dined off unearthed not one cackle in him. He nodded and grinned and a silence set over us. Perhaps it says more about me and how i seek approval than it does about what sort of a person Chester once was. Maybe after a while he'd become too real to wield the mysticality that first shook me and held me in. And my reality was simply too drab for him to want to keep the dream of vicariously living through. I said i'd best be off, and plodded silently back to my bedroom. The sun had already dawned and i was meant to be headed for work. I slept for an hour knowing i just wouldn't go back to the shed and better find a new place to live in. I mean, when a place and it's happenings are a secret only you keep and you find out someone else has known of the ins and outs of it all along, then it's not somewhere to return to. I worried that Chester might it waiting for me, but i doubt it. He might have moved on too. Found someone more interesting to have time with or someone more screamy to haunt if he feels he should. Good luck to him, but i hope our paths fail to cross.
Where i live now i haven't a shed, and carry out all of my eerie habits and personal pleasures in the bathroom, the taps on full to hide news or longing from any visitor's ears.