If your house IS haunted then tell us how you know and any sightings...

ok, my first and only one was when i was on the computer... and i got up to go use the restroom. Now there are two halls that i have to go through... when i turned the corner to the second one i stopped dead because i saw a white orb float in the air for about 3 seconds then it disappeared. So i turned around and held my pee.

[NaumoJR]

No, my house isn't haunted, but it smells kinda funny if that counts for anything...

[craig588]

I once drank some mountian dew, and discovered that my glass was full, of course this was after I poured more in.

So, what I'm trying to say is, the people that think they have haunted houses need to look into other possibilities as to what is happening in their house.

[craig5320]

Yeah maybe it was the lightshade, or you being st00pid

[Falstaff]

Back in the hills of Kentucky, among the pines, where the sun never shines, are little mountian valleys that seem to branch off the railroad beds and trestles. This land was settled almost 200 years ago by pioneers and the history these settlements may have been lost in time, but the cabins and the old coal mines and rock quarries dot the landscape. Outside of Pineville Kentucy, a few miles down the old paved road that runs parallel to the tracks, over the bridge that divides the hills from the valley, you emerge into a different world. Overgrown with pine and old beechnut trees, Booger holler, a little appalacian valley, cuts into a shale mountian. and a rocky rutted path traces up into the bluish black canopy of trees.
At the bottom of the holler lies the foundation and upright dessicated wooden frame of an old house, the peaked roof long since caved in and vines hungrily devour the remaining remnants. This was the Slusher house and was used by transients that walked the tracks during the years between the prohibition and the eventual collapse, lots of hobos called it home.
My grandparents lived beyond the sight from the bottom of the holler, in an old structure that demanded some care but lingered on in some sort of limbo, with our elderly relatives swinging slowly on the porch. They told me the stories of criminals and moonshiners and suicidal lovers that seemed to frequent the abandoned slusher house.. Told me of the old mine that hard coal came out of, and the men who worked it to bring in enough for burning during the winters. The coal seam ran the base of the mountian and many worked it risking death, little tents and camps ran up and down the holler, men risked their lives day in and day out. And some remained in the mines, the victems of accidents perhaps..
Near the old house was the spring and the pump for grandma's house, I would sneak down the road with my cousin Jimmy to sip some of his corn liquer and prime the pump. We would retreat back up the path back to Grandma's, a little drunk and a little scared, our pace quickened past the Slusher house. The wind that blew the pines around at night would also make the old house sing and moan, and we found comfort in the kitchen by the stove, watching the coals go from yellow to orange and then fade to gray...bedtime..
I was awakened by Jimmy about two in the morning, I was shivering and I wiped the sleep from my eyes and we snuck out by the big porch, carefully closing the screen door, we crept out to the road and looked down, I had never seen it at night, like looking into the depths of the ocean, it seem to consume light the fireflys were making as they danced about.
He motioned to me, as if we were drinking whiskey, and he pointed down the trail. Crickets seem to drown out our noisy jog down to the well and the moonshine, it seemed to only take a few minutes and I could see a tiny stream running down the ruts, it washed the flat shale beneath my feet and made my journey pretty slippery. We snuck into the well and sat while bugs flew around our flashlight, the bulb dimmed once then flickered out..repeated attempts to push the button were unsuccessful..
Jimmy didn't panic, he gulped as much as he could till he nearly gagged, and I sipped enough to really burn my esophagus..I replaced the cork and pushed it back into the well, attached to a coat hanger.
Jimmy and I didn't have time to tell jokes, we sat accross from the old Slusher house and tried to make out shapes from the shadows and the overgrowth. Seeing nothing we stood to urinate in the road, we looked up to see if any family came looking for us, we felt secure enough to head back right away. But Jimmy's arm pushed me down and he pointed up past the path down from the mines, It seemed like men in overalls and buckets were walking down, we were frightened and stood motionless...The figures didn't glow but you could clearly see them, almost make out their faces, the walked one by one down the road then past the slusher house swinging their buckets with their heads down then to disappear.
I was lucky I suppose that I didn't fill my pants with excrement, and Jimmy in typical hillbilly fashion made an expletive statement and we made our way back up the hill.
At 7 oclock that morning, Grandma stood there with a switch in her hand, she demanded to know where we had been, we had tracked mud up the porch and into the house...Jimmy was silent, but Grandma turned to me and with her piercing eyes and shoulder length gray hair she was impressive. I confessed and told her about the men we saw at the bottom of the holler, coming down path and past the Slusher house. She fell silent and dropper her T-willow.."You saw something," she said? We nodded acknowlegment. Grandma grabbed both of us and by our arms dragged us down the hill as light began to fill the valley beneath us.....She stopped before we got to the Slusher house, and then charged up a shale hill, through broken branches and sharp pine needles and cones, her feet stirred up the dust in front of us and choked our breath away....She stopped on top and in a bright clearing, we were blinded almost by the rows tombstones, and Grandma released us. I stood among gravestones before, but these all had the Slusher name, and my grandmother told us that her family was buried here as well, all the victums of a coal mine explosion, some were never found she said, and kicked away some dead flowers and muttered a prayer, leaning on the most prominent marker. Jimmy and I were perplexed, and after a pregnant pause, I asked Grandma who we may have seen that night. her eyes, moist with emotion turned away from us, she accused us of making it all up, teasing an old woman, playing a prank..."what did they look like boy?", she asked me....I described in detail what I saw, and told her where they went, her head rose and she seemed to see through the trees.."come with me boy" she said, and she dragged Jimmy and I down to the house...Grandma picked up an old board, broke it across her knee with such speed and such a loud bang we recoiled and stood back. Her 60 year old arms swept away the the Kudsu, back and forth, till she stepped into overgrowth....Ripping away the viel of vines, she revealed a single marble marker, and her wrinkled hands removed the debris that covered it..." Here"!, she said, "here!"...I bent over to read the inscription, barely legible...In Memory Of those that never came home..Nov 19, 1937.
Grandma wheeled about in some sort of disgust and dragged Jimmy to the well, she returned with the clay jug full of our corn whisky..and she poured it on the ground with a splash and shook the jug till it was empty...."come on boys", she said, and started back up the path with Jimmy in tow....I just stood there, like an invader, regarding all of it, absorbing it, I crouched in front of the marker, and traced a simple message into the wet and whisky stained earth...I AM SORRY....and I framed it with a single stroke and looked around...nothing but waving ferns and vines tossed to the side accross the old corrugated roof, it smelled old and rotten....I ran back up to the road and caught up with Grandma...she held my hand and it seemed to quicken my step and I wasn't scared anymore...I looked back down the road, but grandma crushed me against her hip and kept up the pace....The next day I went back home, my father came home from his second tour in Vietnam and I never found the time to mention it to him...but I always wondered if it was the corn whiskey or did I really see something. My mother later confirmed the history of the Slusher family, and told me of the tragedy as well. She is a christian and told that she didn't believe in ghosts per se...but angry spirits and lost souls sure wander the earth, after more than 30 years that just deepened the mystery.....I can still hear the crickets even now....

[NaumoJR]

Am I supposed to read that copy/paste???

[Falstaff]

I wrote it, no copy or paste

[NaumoJR]

Originally posted by fallang_jeff
I wrote it, no copy or paste

Wow, I don't have that kind of time.

[Falstaff]

I have two ex wives, two teenagers, and two ex girlfriends......life.....live it

[NaumoJR]

That's alot of 2's.

[Falstaff]

it didn't bother me to see two of anything...ha ha...