My great-great grandmother, who had been ill for some time now, finally passed away. My great-great grandfather was devastated beyond belief. She was his one true love and they had been married for over 50 years.
They had been married so long it was if they knew each others thoughts. Even after the doctor announced her dead, my great-great grandfather still insisted that she was not. He had to literally be pried away from his wife's body so they could prepare her for a burial.
Back in those days they had simple backyard burial plots, without the body doing through any preservation. The body was simply committed to the coffin and buried. Throughout this process, my great-great grandfather protested so much that he had to be sedated and put to bed. His wife was buried, and that was that.
That night, he woke to a horrific vision of his wide hysterically trying to scratch her way out of the coffin. He phoned the doctor immediately and begged to have his wife's body taken out. The doctor refused. He continued to have this nightmare every night that week, and each day after begged the doctor to remove his wife from the grave.
Finally, the doctor gave in, and with the local authorities had the coffin removed from the ground and pried open. To everyone's horror and amazement, my great great grandmothers nails were bent back, and there were obvious scratches on the inside of the coffin.

 

 

I have always believed in ghosts, and have seen more than my fair share, but I have never been truly afraid of any, untill I moved with my parents to a small house in Las Vegas, NV. The funny thing is that this house is not particularly old, Maybe about ten years old at best. But the day we moved in, there was definately something strange.
As we moved our furniture in, I began to get very wary of mirrors. I didn't want to look into them if it wasn't daytime or if there wasn't a light on in the room. I always felt like there was something looking back at me. after moving in, I would be at home alone sitting in the living room, and suddenly a loud cry would echo through the house. I say echo, because that is exactly what it did. It seemed to come from the walls and surround me,and every hair on my body would stand on end . I tried to dismiss it as bad pipes or some other happening, but then why did it always happen when I was alone?
Things started escalating from there, and it was all around ME. I started to wonder if I was crazy.
Then, one night I woke up from a sound sleep. Somebody was watching me, I couldn't see them, but I could definately feel them. My throat was so dry, that I decided to go into the kitchen to get a drink. As I stepped out of my room, the door shut behind me. Strange since there were no open windows or drafts that I knew of. As I walked down the hall I could feel the "thing" getting closer to me...following me. Pictures came off the wall behind me as I came through the hallway, I was to scared to turn around to face the "thing". I finally reached the kitchen, after what seemed to be an eternity, the "thing" was closer than ever. Well, I couldnt take it any longer, I spun around and screamed at the top of my lungs..."LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!". What I saw was not a face or figure, but a blob of hazy light, that hung in the air like fog. It disappeared soon after my screaming, and I ( at the age of 18) ran back to my room and hid under the covers. I never felt, heard, or saw THAT "thing" ! ! again. I can honestly say tha I was glad of that. It was not the last time I would encounter ghosts in that house, but it was the last time I was terrified. Needless to say, I moved.

 

 

I've never been one to have a "real" encounter of an unexplainable event, except for maybe a little ESP, and dreams telling me what the future holds (Which happened only twice, once warning me about a fire, and the death of someone close to me...needless to say, my neighbor's house caught on fire after the dream, and my grandmother passed away.) But this story has to do with a friend of mine, twin babies, and a ghost.
Nearly a year ago, a friend of mine, Julie, went to visit her aunt and uncle for a month or so while her parents fought out a messy divorce. Her relative's house was an older farm house which had survived at least a hundred years. While visiting, her aunt and uncle decide to go out, and invited Julie along. Having had a long tiring day, Julie declined and offered to watch the twins. Her aunt an uncle agreed, happy to be going out alone.
Julie had a great few hours with the twins, who where nice quiet babies (So she says:) As it grew later, she placed the children in their crib and tucked them in for the night placing a small teddy bear in the crib with them. She headed down the steps into the kitchen to clean up after dinner and bake some cookies. As she waited for the cookies to be done, she sat at the table and deiced to read a book. A few minuets later, she heard the kitchen door, which lead to the back yard open. Looking up from the book, she expected it to be her aunt and uncle. no one was there, so figuring it was the wind, she got up and shut it. Nearly ten minuets later, the same thing happened, though this time she latched the door.
It was around this time that she had a strange, feeling.... She thought she heard some strange noises from upstairs...The baby intercom she had with her ringed out the sound of the baby crying...Than it suddenly stopped. She swore she heard footsteps as well, and a far away voice talking to the kids. Thinking at once about the babies and their safety she went to go check on them....When she entered the room, she heard nothing at all which scared her the most. She looked into the children's crib, and both babies were gone. Neither or them could walk yet, being only six months old. Being only 16 at the time, she had no idea what to do and was in a panic. She ran as fast as she could over to one of the neighbor's houses, and from the called the police. before the police came, her neighbor walked over to the house with her. Together they went into the babies room, and both children where there. Terrified, she scooped up both babies and stood outside and waited for the police and her aunt and uncle (which she also called) While waiting outside, she saw one of the kid's toys....It was exactly like the teddy bear she had placed in their crib. She asked one of the neighbors to go inside with her, and as she thought, the bear was no longer in the crib either. To be on the safe side, once her aunt and uncle had come back, she asked if the kids had two bears, they said no. They also confessed about hearing soothe gentle voices talking to their kids on the baby intercom from time to time.

 

 

 

On December 31, 1812, the beautiful and vivacious Theodosia Burr, wife of wealthy Governor Joseph Alston of South Carolina, left her husband's plantation and sailed north on the Patriot to visit her beloved father, the famous Aaron Burr, in New York City.
In early January the vessel was accosted off Cape Hatteras by ships of Great Britain, then at war with the United States, but was permitted to proceed on its journey. The Patriot was never seen again nor, with any certainty, was Theodosia.
An angry storm that very night swept the coast of North Carolina. Some say that during the gale pirates boarded the Patriot, removed all valuables, forced passengers and crew to walk the plank, then sank the ship. But legend persists that Theodosia survived, that she was cast ashore in a small boat onto the Outer Banks, bereft of all possessions except a portrait of herself, and that, with her sanity completely gone, she was thereafter cared for by a Banker fisherman and his wife.
The years went by. In 1869 the strange woman became ill, and a doctor from Elizabeth City was called in to attend her. He did what he could, but it was clear that she had not long to live. As he was leaving the sick room, the poor fisherman's wife told the doctor that, as she had no money, he would have to choose something from the house for his pay. When he replied that he would like to have the handsome portrait hanging on the wall, the afflicted old woman sprang from her bed. "It is mine! You shall not have it! I am on my way to visit my father in New York, and I am taking this picture of his darling Theodosia!" With that, she grabbed the canvas, rushed through the door, ran down the surf, and walked into the ocean.. The next day, the portrait washed up on the beach.
It is fact, not legend, that the doctor took the picture from Nags Head to his home in Elizabeth City, that a descendent sold it an art dealer who in turn sold it to a member of the Burr family, and that it exists today.

 

 

Sitting proudly at rest in Baltimore Harbor, the USS Constellation emits an aura of peace of and security. Where once men died under the hail of grapeshot, children now walk.
During her 175-year history, much blood has flowed over her wooden beams. So what or who, among the countless who have met death on her deck, was the ghostly apparition that was photographed in the forecastle in 1955?
Lt. Cmdr. Allen Ross Brougham, USN, the man who snapped the photo, believes it is a captain returning to inspect his ship.
Hans Holzer, a professional ghost hunter and author, says it could be any one of three spirits "haunting the old ship."
To a Catholic priest who came face to face with the ghost, it is an old salt, unwilling to leave the beloved sea.
Legends of ghosts and other strange occurrences have long been told about the United States Navy's first ship. But the first indication that they were more than the reminiscences of old sea dogs came at 8 bells on a cold December night in 1955.
Commander Brougham had his camera set. Waiting patiently, he allegedly caught the ghost forever on film.
At 11:59:47 P.M., to be exact, the Navy officer "detected a faint scent in the air-a certain something not unlike gunpowder."
Then before him, he said, appeared a "phosphorescently glowing, translucent ectoplasmic manifestation of a late Eighteenth Century or early Nineteenth Century sailor, complete with gold stripe trouser, cocked hat and sword."
He barely had time to snap the shutter before the eerie figure vanished, he said.
A few years later, repairmen heard strange moans and cries coming from below the decks, but every time they went to investigate they found nothing.
In Hans Holzer's book, Portal to the Past, reference is made to the experience of a Catholic priest who visited the Constellation in 1964.
When the priest arrived, there was no member of the Maryland Naval Militia to take him aboard for a tour. So he went below by himself.
While wandering beneath the deck, he said, he was startled by an old sailor who volunteered much information about history of the ship and the proper names for the equipment.
After thanking his guide, the priest went above deck where he met several of the regular tour guides. He congratulated them for having such a knowledgeable man as the one who led him around.
The real guides were horrified. "We have no one below," they protested.
In haste, the guides and the priest rushed down the narrow stairway, but the old guide had vanished into the air.
Sybil Leek, the famous English witch, once paid a visit to the stately ship. She claimed she picked up vibrations from three spirits; a captain, a sailor and an apprentice seaman, who had all died violently.
Which one of these denizens of the spirit world was the one photographed, if any, is unknown.

 

 

Ghost ships, in the mythology of the sea, are almost as plentiful as barnacles on a rock.
One of the most celebrated is the phantom schooner of Harpswell which was seen by many people, usually in the late afternoon, fully rigged and under sail; a breathtaking sight, though apt to vanish without warning in a shimmer of light or a sudden rising of fog. This vision has been immortalized in the poem The Dead Ship of Harpswell, by John Greenleaf Whittier, whose opening lines are as follows: What flecks the outer gray beyond The sundown's golden trail? The white flash of a sea-bird's wing, Or gleam of slanting sail?
The period around 1812 was a splendid time for industrious young men to make a legitimate fortune on the high seas. A couple of boys barely into their twenties could prosper trading cod and lumber for the rum, molasses and coffee of the Indies, which was precisely the career George Leverett and Charles Jose envisioned when they set out from Portland, Maine. Their destination was the Soule Boatyard in South Freeport and their mission was to arrange for the building of their own new vessel.
However, shortly after arriving in South Freeport they met the lovely Sarah Soule, fell violently in love with her, and out of sorts with each other. Perhaps because of his Portuguese blood, Jose pursued her more hotly, though in the end it was George Leverett she preferred. After a bitter argument, during which Charles tried to hurl George into the Royal River, the friendship between the two men ended. Charles disappeared and George proceeded with construction of the ship. When she was finished, he appropriately named her Sarah and prepared for his wedding to Sarah Soule.
Ill fortune arose on every side. At first there were strange obstacles in the wedding preparations. Then Captain Leverett found it oddly difficult to line up a crew. Still, he was a determined young man and, at last, with his bride in his house and a crew on his ship, Leverett sailed into Portland harbor to take on cargo for the West Indies. At the same time, there arrived a curious black craft which flew no flag and was outfitted with cannon. The ship was the Don Pedro Salazar and her captain was none other than Leverett's former partner and romantic rival, Charles Jose.
Much like a storm cloud on the horizon, the Don Pedro trailed the Sarah south. As the voyage progressed the Sarah's crew grew more and more uneasy and petitioned Captain Leverett to head for Nassau to report the menacing pursuer to the British Admiralty. He never reached the harbor. As soon as the Don Pedro saw what course Leverett was taking, she opened fire, killing all but Leverett and severely damaging, though through some miracle, not sinking the unarmed Sarah.
Still blinded by jealousy and seeking murderous revenge, Jose could have tortured the survivor in a variety of traditional methods. However, Jose, after looting the ship, chose only to tie Leverett to the foot of the Sarah's mainmast and head him out to sea.
It was then that Leverett experienced an extraordinary phenomenon. Helpless as he was and facing certain death and destruction on an unmanned and shattered vessel, he still was possessed by a strange notion that the ship was under control. Indeed the dead crew began to rise up and take their posts one by one. Sails were set and the ship's course was turned toward home. Captain Leverett, at this point, understandably lost consciousness.
On a bleak November day people on Potts' Point saw a fully rigged yet tragic wreck sailing with uncanny accuracy along the unmarked channel. Suddenly the ship came to a full stop without benefit of an anchor. A pale and silent crew lowered an apparently unconscious man into a boat, rowed him ashore and laid him on a rock, his log book beside him. Without even the squeak of an oar-lock, the ghostly sailors returned to the ship just as a heavy fog suddenly blanketed the harbor. When it had lifted the ship was gone. The unconsciousman was soon recognized as George Leverett and it is said that he recovered at least enough to relate this tale, though he surely never went out to sea again.
The last sighting of the Sarah was in the 1880s on a crystaline summer afternoon. A guest seated on the piazza of Harpswell House looked seaward toward the horizon in time to see a wondrous vision.
A great schooner, under full sail, her canvas gilded in the sun, was heading slowly for the harbor. He summoned a friend, but when they looked again the ship had vanished. Believers say that the magnificent wreck and her ghostly crew, weary from wandering, had reached home port for the last time.

 

 

Alright none of you have to believe this, but this just has to be told. As a child Iv'e never believed in ghosts. I still don't. But I know that day there was a real evil presence with me. Iv'e never told anyone this but here we go.

One day I saw two boys in my head and I mean I could really see them. They were about the age of 6 and 8. Then I just saw it like a movie in my head. There were two girls on bikes and and they rode up to the two boys. One who was more curious went up to one and asked him a question. I never have found out what the question was. Well the boy about the age of 8 raised his hand and shot her. She fell to the ground and the two boys disappeared. The other girl got off her bike and ran into the woods. I tried following her but then it went away.

So I felt like I should write a story about it. It took me two years , but I did finish it. The last word I wrote on it was that gone. So I decided to name the book gone. One day I walked into my room. When I stepped foot in there my heart just started racing real fast. I started sweating and having short breaths. Then I saw it. The book I wrote was in the middle of my desk.( I had it tucked away) Then the book just started paging through itself. Like there was wind in the room. Then it got to the one page and it stopped. Everything stopped. I walked toward the book and with blood it looked like was writeing saying to turn around. I did and i saw the two boys standing there. They just stood there, Then they disappeard. For some reason I still didn't believe it and turned to the book. It was gone as well. But there was a note that was left. It read this story was never meant to be told. And to never write about it again. Or speak of it. Then the next day the note disappeard. It was gone.