It's upon us soon. Tell me you scary stories.

Boo!

!! BOO!!


http:http://www.halloweenghoststories.com...loween1-1.html

Titana........

I was born in 1990 to.........(life story)

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Aim high (but don't blow yourself up)!- Homer Hickam

In Soviet Russia, UFO report you!- Phil Plait

Carl Sagan may have seen a pale blue dot, but I see a sapphire.- Doug Phillips, Discovering Alabama.

Clear skies Maksutov.

One time I thought I'd locked my keys in the car. They were in my coat pocket all along. It was scary for a moment though.

Oh, and I met Vice President Nixon at a baseball game back about 1953 or thereabouts.

(Actually he and his wife Pat smiled and said hello.)

When I was younger, my mom would take us around to the really nice neighborhoods to trick or treat. They had bigger and better candy.

I have an old photo somewhere. If I can find it, I will post it here. You can see me dressed up in some weird costume back in the 70's.

Hah, that's convenient. I'm working on an SF story right now... Not exactly horror, and probably not that good, but should be quite dark enough.

You should post a teaser. I'd like to read it. Better yet, if you have a blog... There's a lot of free blog space out there in cyberworld. My website, I have listed, is my blog. It's a little boring right now. I promise to make it somewhat interesting in the very near future.

Alright, I have one.

One night, a guy and his girlfriend are on a date. They decide to go to a secluded park for a little "necking". The park is down a hill off a main road, and is surrounded by trees. They turn the radio on and climb in the back seat of the guy's car. While they are back there, they hear over the radio that a serial killer had just escaped from a nearby mental institution. He was very dangerous, and his distinguishing feature was that he only had one shoe. The couple ignored this and kept doing what they were doing. Since it was snowing out and the heat was on, the windows started fogging up.

After a while, the girlfriend got a feeling there was someone outside the car. They couldn't see out because of the fog on the windows, so the boyfriend wiped off one of the windows to see out but couldn't see very far because of the snow. They climb into the front seat and lock the doors. Just then, a faint scratching was heard on one of the doors. The boyfriend turned the car on and put it into gear just as there was a band on the door. The two sped off.

The boyfriend dropped his girlfriend at her parents house and went to hang out with some friends. He told them the story and they all decided to check out the park. By then the snow had stopped. When they got there, no one was around. However, where the car was parked there were circled of footprints, like someone had been walking around the car. What's more, the person who left the footprints only had one shoe.

From then on every so often a young teenage couple who were at that park would be brutally murdered. The police would come in with dogs but the culprit was never found. After a number of couples had died the town finally closed off the park permanently.

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I met this wonderful girl at Macy's. She was buying clothes and I was putting Slinkies on the escalator.
-Steven Wright



My Website: The Black Cat's Web Page

Hi Candy. Here's one.

I enjoy gardening for the physical labor and the sense of being close to my food supply, mother nature, sunshine, and all the flora and fauna. For years intermittently I've worked at various garden centers along with my teaching...dovetails neatly. The latest one is haunted...Wolf Hill in Ipswich,MA. People told me they'd seen things move like a poltergeist was involved, and that they sensed the famous cold spots in different rooms. (Evidently sombody was murdered on site when the building was a restaurant years ago)
I just ignored it. Then while closing up about two months ago...lights were left on downstairs. Vicki headed to shut them off while muttering about who was supposed to get them. As she headed for the spiral staircase...I saw a man walk across what used to be a sunken dance floor...the birdhouse area...I thought it was Eric...the managers' son...and that Vicki would remind of his shortcomings closing up......he took four steps,though, and vanished. Vicki saw nothing...just looked at me blankly.
People have said "Hello" to the man who appears at the front register, turned away, turned back, and he's gone. So while we have plenty of pumpkins, mums, and fake ghosts on site....it unnerves people to know that a real one walks the floors, too. Ciao Pete

I just chuckle every time I see the topic presented, Thread/Thread Starter:

Halloween
Candy

Halloween candy. Yum.

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So anyone dressing up? I am.
For anyone curious, my roommate and myself plan to dress up as a pair of chess nerds. I'm going to wear a black and white checkered vest with a white collared shirt, do my hair up in messy pigtails, and wear huge ugly glasses. My roomie will have some sort of similar attire and we plan to trek around with a chess board and take ourselves altogether too seriously.

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Yes, I have a life. It's quite different from yours.

If you can throw a black jacket over that and wear black trousers, your friend can wear exactly the same thing -- but with black and white reversed. Just a fun little thought.

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Quaeso quousque humi defixa tua mens erit? Nonne aspicis, quae in templa veneris?

I am in the process of making Sith robes for my neighbors, in fact, which I am determined to have done for them by Halloween. (Of course they don't actually want them for Halloween costumes! My neighbors are gamer geeks, and will be using them as roleplaying costumes.) I have not yet determined what I will be wearing, but I've been invited to a Samhain celebration at a friend's for that night.

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Gillian

"Now everyone was giving her that kind of look UFOlogists get when they suddenly say, 'Hey, if you shade your eyes you can see it is just a flock of geese after all.'"

"You can't erase icing."

"I can't believe it doesn't work! I found it on the internet, man!"

I thought I'd go out as a mutant Ninja nun from Hell.

Haven't the slightest idea of how to go about it, though... Habit? Heels? Incredibly large b******?

Fortunately, I'm footloose and fancy free this year, so could care less what others think!

I'm going to be a cat.

A sexy cat.

Nothing really scary. But once I met a distant relative of Lizzy Borden. I just knew that at any moment she could go off.

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I'm not a scientist, but I play one on the internet.
http://www.rrac.org

Oh, spooky and great stories above. I know where you are Superluminal.

Okay, this is an old photo from my past. I snapped a digital of a polaroid photo - this just doesn't seem right.


Susan, Michael, Richard, and Candy
(notice how my name doesn't even fit with the siblings)

As I strolled down the street, my heels thunking eerily on the wet cobblestones, I heard a difference in the background noise of the night that sent shivers down my spine. Normally, I could always hear the laughter coming from the bars in this area of town, people having fun, competing at pool, and generally laughing it up on a Monday night.

Tonight, however, was different, as I approached my favorite watering hole, the Lizzard Inn.

The door creaked as usual when I put my weight against it, but the echo of that creak sounded louder than usual. Normally, it was drowned in myriads of laughter, if not softened by their clothes. Tonight, however, it peeled earily between the walls before coming to rest.

"Mike? Are you open?"

I've never had to ask that question. Of course he was open. He was never closed. Even during the wee hours of that Tuesday morning long ago, when my wife announced her decision to divorce me, Mike was open, and I downed my third hard drink of my life sometime around 4am. He stayed up with me, he did, as I nursed an ache that never went away.

Tonight, however, there was a new ache, as Mike was nowhere to be found.

I strolled around behind the bar, thinking perhaps he'd simply gone to get some things, and poured myself a cold Guiness.

Liquid bread.

Mmm...

After cleaning up the bar, I began policing the tables, and was mostly finished when Mike walked in.

He didn't look himself. In fact, he was scared witless.

"Mike, are you all right?"

"It's them," he replied, his stare a thousand yards long and vacant has hell itself. "They've come."

"Who's come, Mike?" I asked, but all I could get out of him was "them."

I shivered, and poured myself a shot of Drambui, giving Mike two. He needed it.

About three more shots later, Mike began to talk.

"They came."

"Who came, Mike?"

"Them."

"Who's them, Mike?"

"The ones who came through the door."

Clearly, I wasn't about to get any details about "them," so I tried a different tact.

"What happened after they came through the door?"

"They lead us away," Mike replied.

"Where?"

"To the pasture out back."

"Why did you follow them?" I asked, confident in Mike's ability to take care of himself.

For the first and only time that night, Mike looked straight into my eyes for three haunting moments and said, "We followed them because we had to."

It didn't make sense, but Mike averted my gaze, and I let the matter rest.

"Mike," I said gently. "Where's everyone else?"

"Gone," he replied.

"Gone where?" I asked, still not understanding.

"Just, gone," he reiterated.

By this point, he was really scaring me. People in a bar don't just vanish, and the bartender doesn't just appear out of nowhere. This wasn't right, by any stretch of the imagination.

"Mike, how many people were here tonight?" I asked, hoping he'd say none.

"I don't know. Thirty. Perhaps fifty."

I gulped.

"And all of them are 'gone' like you said?"

"Yeah," Mike replied. "Gone."

"Where did they go, Mike?"

He didn't answer. He simply stared into his drink for about twenty seconds, before responding, "there."

There. Ok, there I had it - it was there. They'd all gone "there."

I knew I was beginning to lose my patience, if not my sanity, when I said, "What the hell kind of an answer is that, Mike? What does "there" mean? Where is "there?" Where are our friends, Mike?"

His long stare into nothingness said it all. Mike, who could never be shaken by anything, was clearly disturbed to the depths of his soul. Chills began building down my spine as I began to realize something was wrong with the world. Terribly wrong. I began looking for a way out, wanting to run, to dive through a window, to do anything to get out of this place. The silence was deafening. I heard myself begin to shout "no, No!" over and over. I ran from door to door, locking them all, the windows too, before shuffling back over to Mike, who just sat there, his thousand-yard stare haunting me, as drool dripped from his lower lip.

"You're next," he said.

"Wh-what?" I asked, trembling with fear.

"They took them all," he said. "But they didn't take you."

At that time, Mike looked into my eyes for a second time that night, and in his eyes I caught the horror and fear of what had happened, but I caught something else - the menace, the harm he intended.

"No, Mike - don't!" I cried, as he slowly stood from his chair, and moved towards me. "NO! Mike!"

About this time, unbeknownst to me, someone had snuck up behind us, and went....

MMMUUUUHHAAAHHAAAHAAAHAAA!!!!!

He was joined by all the bar patrons streaming in from the downstairs rooms (which I'd forgotten to check), and Mike, eyes streaming with tears of laughter, gave me the biggest hug of my life, before saying "Happy Halloween, my friend!"

That was last year.

Wonder what's up this year...

Many years ago, my girlfriend at the time lived on about the 10th floor of a tower block. One night I got a phone call ... "I'm haunted by a clock!"


"She's been on the herbal cigarettes again!" I thought.


Eventualy she persuaded me to drive down to investigate, by this time it was about 3:00 AM and very quiet. In her rooms she only had (silent) digital clocks, but I could hear a very quiet ticking...!
Wierd!

Moving around the room the ticking was louder near the window.... what the **** could be ticking 10 floors up?
I put my head between the curtain and the window and the ticking got louder...
Haunted by the ghost of a clock thrown out of the window? ...


Eventualy found that the sound was being transmitted through a ventilation duct from the room above, the end of the duct was just above the window!

Ghost (and girl) laid to rest!

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The meek will inherit the earth ... the rest of us will go to the stars.

I usually carry my black cat to the door to scare the kids, when they come trick-or-treating. Fortunately, Sassy is a mellow cat and doesn't mind. Sometimes I wear a scary mask.

I have a ghost story, but it is long. Too long for this. Maybe I'll type it, upload it, and link to it.

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http://boinc.mundayweb.com/one/stats...033/prj:6/.png

I love the above stories. You people really know how to make me laugh.

I just saw on this morning's news to keep black cats indoors during Halloween. Apparently, there are some mean spirited people out and about!

http://www.geocities.com/dianabrr/Titana.html




Titana.........

If you haven't read it, The Vanishing Hitchhiker is full of fun scary stories. The author is Jan Brunvand and he has written several other books collecting such urban legends.

Nice!

!!Thanks!!



Titana..........

I collect black cats for a reason.

You see, all black cats are time travelers, caught in our world without a way to return home.

Whenever a black cat appears on my doorstep, I collect him/her, and send them back to the time from which they came.

This is a harmless procedure, made possibly by replacing their atomic structure with free-flowing tachyons from the university's linear accelerator.

It takes but less than two minutes, but to date I've had trouble with the authorities.

Apparently, they've noticed a decided drop in the number of black cats in the neighborhood, and have been recording the change in numbers. I'm not sure what provisions would allow for the lost souls to continue home while placating the ridiculously stupid powers that be.

Hey. Do I know you? Lizzie's mother (her real mother, not the stepmama murder victim) is my great, great (I think two greats) aunt, the sister of my great-great-great grandfather.

Last year at Halloween I directed a play about Lizzie.

Superluminal was talking about me. Are we distant relatives (not blood)? I'm from the Cornell side.

I'm gonna don heels, a wig, breasts, hips, makeup, and stymie the hell out of the drunk guys around here while attracting the admiration of the women who have to put up with their antics every Friday night.

I've done it for the past 10 years, and it's a blast!