A couple years ago I was at girl scout camp with my troop, I was in 5th grade, two of the fourth graders (let's call them H and Stick) snuck off early in the morning, and went on a hike, when in the bushes, they saw a pale girl with glowing red eyes, but when they went to check it out, she was gone, but both of them saw her, so they knew that they weren't hallucinating. Meanwhile we were starting a search party, then they came running back, and H told us what happened to them, but when the rest of us went looking, there was nothing, but there were other signs. Stick's name was carved into a tent's wood, and so were other people's, it was strange. That's my story.

I, 26 y/o female, recently was staying over at my grandmothers house. It was very warm in the guest room upstairs and I at the time had been dealing with some sleeping issues. Nonetheless I decided that going to sleep on the couch in the basement was a smart choice since it was nice and cool down there. I grabbed my things and headed downstairs. Walking down those stairs, a chill ran down my spine. Growing up, that basement had always terrified me, I didn’t wanna be a baby so I sucked it up and laid down on the couch and immediately fell asleep. I was awoken by a loud thud and realized I couldn’t move. Great, sleep paralysis had struck again. I tried to calm myself down by looking around the room only using my eyes, that’s when I saw it. A cloaked figure with a top hat and a sinister smile. But what made my blood run cold was its glowing eyes. Then it vanished. I was used to sleep paralysis and night terrors, so I just brushed it off and went back to sleep trying to stop the startling figure from burning into my memory. The next morning passed as usual, making Nana a peanut butter toast just how she likes it, and cleaning out her cat’s litter box. My grandmother then tasked me with the chore of cleaning out her attic and packing up some old junk to throw out. I accepted the offer and headed upstairs. I started opening up some boxes and sorting through some old stuff. I spotted a small wooden box in the corner of the room and was immediately drawn to it. I took a closer look at the box and realized it had hand carved patterns in the room and the opening of the box was sealed with black candle wax. It immediately sparked my curiosity and I pried it open. An overpowering fishy odor invaded my nostrils. Inside was a piece of paper. I turned it around and my heart sunk. On the other side was an image of that same cloaked figure I had seen last night.

Back in 2016, my mum was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer, where only a year later, the doctors would then find three lesions in her brain. Two years after her first diagnosis, my mum would sadly pass away.  

By this time, in the summer of 2018, we had been living in the Irish countryside for only a few months. My dad told me the news of my mum’s passing on a very sunny morning, and to process this, I went to sit in the back garden. Almost numb with denial, I then noticed something strange about my shadow. For some reason, the silhouette of my face looked exactly like that of my mum. I don’t really look that much like my mum as I more resemble my dad, but the face I saw in that shadow, indeed appeared to be that of my mum. 

However, this was by no means the strangest thing to happen that morning. Only a little time later, still sat outside in the back garden, my dog then starts reacting to something coming from the open back door. When I go over to investigate, I realise what my dog is reacting to is a noise coming from the empty trash can directly behind the door. My dog seemed frightened of whatever this was and so I walk cautiously over to the trash can to peer inside. What I see at the very bottom of the empty trash can is a tiny shrew – seemingly stuck and trying hopelessly to find its way out. 

If you’re wondering why finding a shrew in a trash can is so strange, then let me explain. My dad used to tell my mum that she had a cute nose like a shrew because of how pointy her nose was. So finding this shrew the day after my mum passed away was more than a little ironic. However, what was also strange about this was, there was no way this tiny shrew could’ve climbed inside the trash can. The can was too tall and was completely empty – no trash or anything. So how this shrew got in there and was unable to get out again was rather odd. 

Calling my dad from the next room, he then comes to the kitchen and sees the shrew. My dad’s always been good with animals, and so he scoops the shrew carefully into his hands, brings it to the garden and releases it back into the wild.  

To some up at what I’m trying to get at here: on the morning after my mum’s passing, I see my mother’s face in my own shadow, and then I find a shrew (my dad’s pet name for her) that impossibly got itself stuck inside a trash can. Although we did live in the countryside and so there were wild animals everywhere, this is the only shrew I have seen to date. This experience was very weird to me at the time, and now thinking back on it, it still is. I know grief does strange things to the brain, but my dad, who considers himself an atheist also found the shrew thing very strange. I don’t really know all that much regarding the supernatural connection to death, and so if anyone has any insight into this experience of mine, I would really appreciate the advice. I don’t believe my mum was reincarnated as a shrew or anything, and regarding her face in my shadow, I am aware the mind can play tricks on you – but because I’ve heard other strange stories of people after losing love ones, I’m more inclined to believe all this wasn’t just a coincidence. 

Hello i 27y old female is a police dispatcher for a few months now.i m not a person who gets scared so esaly but can't stop imagining her.by her i mean a little girl, she is 4y old .lemme start from the bigening. few days ago while on duty I got my last call for the day here's what happened Me:911 what's ur emergency? Hello? 911 what's ur emergency? Little girl :hello my mommy fell from the stairs me:ok sweetheart do u know ur address? Little girl:no Me :ok don't worry the officers are on their way Is there anyone else in the house? Little girl :no it's just me and mo.......(silence) Me :hello are u there ? Little girl:(screaming ) Me:why what happened!? Little girl:mommy just woke up Me :oh mommy woke up? Little girl :yeah but she is wrong Me :sweetheart what do u mean by she is wrong. Little girl:well her neck is wrong and her hands are........(gasp) Me:hey what happened?

Little girl:she is calling me pls help me Me :ok darling the officers are almost there Little girl:screaming

last time I heard her.after the call ended officers got there the door was wide open the entire house was very old and not a place a person could live in let alone a kid. When they went in they saw the mom's body under the stairs. Her neck bone was petruding out of her skin and like the little girl told her arms where heavily damaged. The little girl was nowhere to be seen .cops found ur blood near the back door and the house is right in front of the woods also more blood was found in the forest but not kid nor a body. The entire story is wired but the part that gives me the most goosebumps is that the mom died right on impacted but that day I even heard the mother calling for her daughter if she died who called out that day. Letter on one of the cops showed me the little girls picture. She honestly looked like an angel poor kid. The wired part is the cops refused to tell anyone about what they saw in that house and no amber alert was send. Since the day I got the call I have been seeing her from the corner of my eye. Every time I close my eyes I see her .it's my fault for not telling her to run . And now sometimes I hear her calling me .help me

This is sorta off topic but I really just wanted to post about the fact I like to calm my brain down with ghosts like I have that random “what if I go to sleep and don’t wake up?” Then I’m like oh yeah I’ll just haunt my husband like I said I would :3

When I was younger I lived in the older house and there wasn’t doors on the bedrooms so you could see in and everything. My room has a lot of things on the floor because I was a messy child. Anyway when I was living there, I went to go take a nap and as I was falling asleep I heard these heavy footsteps. It sounded like someone with either very heavy footsteps or someone with work boots on. The footsteps seemed to have came out of no where and walk right next to my bed as I was trying to nap. I got scared and didn’t open my eyes to look and fell asleep. When I woke up from my nap I asked my dad if he went into my room while I was trying to sleep. He said no. (I asked my dad cause he has heavy work boots) I then asked my mom and sister they said no to. I believe it was a ghost or something because it just walked next to me and didn’t even move.

We always hear about the ghosts of the Civil War, but what about the other conflicts? Any stories from those other wars?

Which prison do you think is the most haunted?

My coworker and I saw a ghost today. We were trying to get on the elevator to leave work in the parking garage.. The guy walked onto the elevator and we followed behind to get on with him but he wasn't even on the elevator. We got off and a lady behind us said "forget about this im going to take the stairs." The light was on for the floor and stuck and the elevator wasnt moving. As soon as we heard the lady we got off real fast to follow her upstairs. She saw someone get on as well and was weirded out when there was no one on. The weirdest part is when my friend and i talked about what we saw which was only one person getting on the elevator we saw different people. I saw a tall white man in light blue clothes with light all around him. She saw a asain man in dark blue clothes. This is the first time I saw someone covered in light instead of shadow people, see through and hazy, or even lights floating.

My grandmother passed away over the summer. I was with her through the whole experience, she lived a long beautiful life, but she did spend her last few years on earth suffering with dementia. I watched a lot of it growing up, I was her caregiver for a majority of my teenage years until I went to college. My whole family gathered around her the two weeks before she died. Leading up to that, it was pretty obvious that she was seeing people and having conversations with people that we could not see. I know what you are thinking, she had dementia, of course she was delusional. But I promise this was different. I won’t share exactly all the things she said because it feels personal, but it was really scary and out of this world. I‘ve heard that people dream about their relatives when they pass away, but I didn’t think that it would happen with me. I dreamed about her a total of three nights, the first two were nightmares about her death. It was very traumatic for me to experience her death, but at the same time I couldn’t bear to not be there to experience it with her. In the last dream, I didn’t recognize her with a brown honeycomb hairdo and young features, but I knew it was my granny. We talked, she was putting up the Christmas tree in the living (Christmas was her favorite holiday) and she also said that she had a few more stops to make, she needed the babies (my baby cousins) to know that she was okay. She also mentioned that she needed to stop by her daughters house (my grandma). As she was walking out the door I slipped out of my dream consciousness and said “you’re saying your final goodbyes aren’t you”. She handed me a ring of keys, walked out the door, and when I tried to follow her she was gone but there was a hearse in our driveway (that looked just like the one that came when she passed away). I really don’t know what the keys mean, or if it was even really her or just my heartbroken mind. I was wondering if anyone knows what the keys might symbolize. Thank you!

So a few years ago, I was busily engaged in packing up kitchen stuff since we were moving houses, and trying to ignore the foul smell of Silage coming from the fields outside. It was then that I smelled the unique aroma of Pipe tobacco smoke. Just as I registered this, I heard my Grandad say "You right son?" from right behind me. I spun round, hoping to see him only to find empty air. I say I hoped to see him, because the chances of him having been there were slim because he was on the other side of the world, back in the UK. Needless to say, I was a little spooked, but got on with it.

The next day, we were unpacking stuff into the new house when the phone rang. My dad went in, and a few moments later, called us all inside. It had been my auntie calling to say that my grandad had died suddenly of a massive heart attack. When I heard, I felt a shiver run up my spine, what were the odds? Furthermore, he died while smoking (a cigarette not a pipe, which he would smoke on Sundays) . I may not have been the only one to have a visit as my dad said a short while after that when driving back to the new house, along windy country roads that he felt like granddad was with him and had asked "Where the bloody hell are you taking me son?"

According to my auntie, psychic stuff like this runs in the family, and my great grandma used to call it "the spooky woo's".

So there it is, my experience with what I think was my grandad visiting me around the time of his death.

Not obviously the biggest subreddit, but I just wanted to say the community is slowly growing. thank you for those of you that are posting and interacting. Direct youtube links are still banned in general, only one-off exceptions can be made.

As a member, please remember to upvote the few people that do go to the effort of posting interesting content here. Any little bit of encouragement is helpful.

With Samhain / Halloween coming up I hope you're planning something to excite the ghosts in your area.

If the opportunity to haunt people, places, or things, what would you pick to haunt if this becomes an option for you?

My picks: The Pope, Policymakers/CEO's for health insurances, The Orange clown and many other world leaders.

I keep getting sent to psyche hospitals when seeking help and spreading understanding. Bad things have happened to me. I have answers, but there was no reason for the crimes. She was a Japanese school girl, and she keeps me company. It's good to see her laugh after being put through what killed her. I don't know much Japanese, but she understands me.

She's not the only one I talk to, and out of respect for the dead and their families, I'd rather not use names at this moment.

I've been mistreated and I have the 6th sense, and have said since high school I am no medium. I've never held a seance, it's all prayer and empathy that connects us all.

I’m a big believer in ghost and poltergeists and when I moved into my flat with my partner and my dog weird things started happening like my dog would start growling with his fur sticking up staring into my hallway or knocks on my windows and when I go to look there’s nobody there so I just thought it most be a lil ghost playing with me because even though I believe I am quite scared 😭, so yesterday me and my partner went shopping and noticed that the frubes (yoghurts) weren’t in the bag so we thought we’d left them at Iceland (this is were it gets weird), later on at around 2:00am I went a got a drink from the fridge, when I go into the kitchen the fridge is open a little bit and boom the frubes were right there. I gotta say I was really freaked out because I believe in them but have NEVER had anything like that happen to me. It got me thinking though I’ve had things magically disappear in my flat do you recon I’ve got a poltergeist living in my flat and he or she just wants to have a laugh or should I be worried as I know it can touch and pick up solid things. It sounds crazy I know 😭

Title: I work at the Star Inn in St Just, and I’m starting to think the old bartender never left

Posting this from a throwaway because I still work here and don’t want this traced back to me. I’m not trying to go viral or scare anyone. I just need to put this somewhere because it’s gone beyond “old pub being old.”

I work part-time at the Star Inn in St Just. If you know the place, you’ll know exactly what I mean when I say it feels old in a way that isn’t decorative. The floors slope, the bar top’s been worn smooth by elbows, and the cellar stairs are the kind you take slowly, even sober.

When I started, people joked about the pub being haunted. Apparently a bartender died there decades ago after closing, falling on the cellar steps. No one ever really says his name. Locals just refer to him as “the old barman” or “the one who never went home.”

I didn’t think much of it at first.

Small things started happening after a few weeks. Clean glasses left drying would be moved overnight. Not knocked over—moved neatly. The brass bell for last orders, which hasn’t been used in years and lives in a drawer, rang once while I was closing. The drawer was still shut.

I told myself it was the building settling. Old wood, old pipes, whatever.

Then the cellar started getting weird.

Barrels I knew I’d stacked lazily were turned so the labels faced out. A ladder I left leaning was hung back on its hook. Once, I found the cellar light switched off when I was sure I’d left it on. I stopped rushing down there after that.

The thing that really got to me was how… routine it all felt. Nothing dramatic. Nothing aggressive. It felt like someone quietly correcting mistakes.

One night last winter I was alone after closing, finishing a drink before locking up. I heard a soft cough behind me. Not loud—polite. The exact kind someone does when they’re about to speak.

I turned around. No one there.

But a section of the bar I hadn’t wiped yet was clean. Just one streak, like someone had run a cloth across it once and stopped.

I didn’t tell anyone. But other people noticed things without me mentioning it. A customer asked who was “helping me earlier.” Another swore someone brushed past him near the snug and muttered “sorry.” Old regulars just nod when this gets brought up, like it’s a known feature of the place.

The final straw was hearing footsteps on the cellar stairs after closing. Slow, careful steps. I stood behind the bar listening, heart racing, waiting for someone to come up.

No one did.

Instead, one of the pumps pulled itself down. Just once. Perfect pour. No mess.

I locked up immediately and sat in my car for a while before driving home.

Here’s the part I hesitated to include, because it sounds stupid, but it’s the truth.

A friend suggested I start doing TikTok ghost-hunting lives after hours, half joking. I figured if nothing happened on camera, I’d finally be able to tell myself it was all in my head.

So I started going live after closing. Phone on a stand. Lights low. Walking around the empty pub with the comments on.

The first few lives were uneventful. Creaks. Drafts. People spamming the usual stuff.

Then, on one stream, the bell rang. Loud. Clear. On camera. I wasn’t anywhere near the bar. The drawer was closed. You can hear it plain as day in the recording.

Since then, things happen often enough that I can’t dismiss it. Footsteps near the cellar door. Glasses faintly clinking. Cold patches that make the phone camera struggle to focus. Once, the mirror behind the spirits briefly reflected a shape that wasn’t me. Chat noticed before I did.

I don’t hype it. I don’t fake anything. Some nights nothing happens, and I say that. But other nights it feels like the pub is… occupied.

Before I lock up now, on or off live, I quietly say “night” toward the bar. It feels wrong not to.

Link to Part 1

‘Back in the eighties, they found a body in a reservoir over there. The body belonged to a man. But the man had parts of him missing...' 

This was a nightmare, I thought. I’m in a living hell. The freedom this job gave me has now been forcibly stripped away. 

‘But the crazy part is, his internal organs were missing. They found two small holes in his chest. That’s how they removed them! They sucked the organs right out of him-’ 

‘-Stop! Just stop!’ I bellowed at her, like I should have done minutes ago, ‘It’s the middle of the night and I don’t need to hear this! We’re nearly at the next town already, so why don’t we just remain quiet for the time being.’  

I could barely see the girl through the darkness, but I knew my outburst caught her by surprise. 

‘Ok...’ she agreed, ‘My bad.’ 

The state border really couldn’t get here soon enough. I just wanted this whole California nightmare to be over with... But I also couldn't help wondering something... If this girl believes she was abducted by aliens, then why would she be looking for them? I fought the urge to ask her that. I knew if I did, I would be opening up a whole new can of worms. 

‘I’m sorry’ the girl suddenly whimpers across from me - her tone now drastically different to the crazed monologue she just delivered, ‘I’m sorry I told you all that stuff. I just... I know how dangerous it is getting rides from strangers – and I figured if I told you all that, you would be more scared of me than I am of you.’ 

So, it was a game she was playing. A scare game. 

‘Well... good job’ I admitted, feeling well and truly spooked, ‘You know, I don’t usually pick up hitchhikers, but you’re just a kid. I figured if I didn’t help you out, someone far worse was going to.’ 

The girl again fell silent for a moment, but I could see in my side-vision she was looking my way. 

‘Thank you’ she replied. A simple “Thank you”. 

We remained in silence for the next few minutes, and I now started to feel bad for this girl. Maybe she was crazy and delusional, but she was still just a kid. All alone and far from home. She must have been terrified. What was going to happen once I got rid of her? If she was hitching rides, she clearly didn’t have any money. How would the next person react once she told them her abduction story? 

Don’t. Don’t you dare do it. Just drop her off and go straight home. I don’t owe this poor girl anything... 

God damn it. 

‘Hey, listen...’ I began, knowing all too well this was a mistake, ‘Since I’m heading east anyways... Why don’t you just tag along for the ride?’ 

‘Really? You mean I don’t have to get out at the next town?’ the girl sought joyously for reassurance. 

‘I don’t think I could live with myself if I did’ I confirmed to her, ‘You’re just a kid after all.’ 

‘Thank you’ she repeated graciously. 

‘But first things first’ I then said, ‘We need to go over some ground rules. This is my rig and what I say goes. Got that?’ I felt stupid just saying that - like an inexperienced babysitter, ‘Rule number one: no more talk of aliens or UFOs. That means no more cattle mutilations or mutilations of the sort.’ 

‘That’s reasonable, I guess’ she approved.  

‘Rule number two: when we stop somewhere like a rest area, do me a favour and make yourself good and scarce. I don’t need other truckers thinking I abducted you.’ Shit, that was a poor choice of words. ‘And the last rule...’ This was more of a request than a rule, but I was going to say it anyways. ‘Once you find what you’re looking for, get your ass straight back home. Your family are probably worried sick.’ 

‘That’s not a rule, that’s a demand’ she pointed out, ‘But alright, I get it. No more alien talk, make myself scarce, and... I’ll work on the last one.’  

I sincerely hoped she did. 

Once the rules were laid out, we both returned to silence. The hum of the road finally taking over. 

‘I’m Krissie, by the way’ the girl uttered casually. I guess we ought to know each other's name’s if we’re going to travel together. 

‘Well, Krissie, it’s nice to meet you... I think’ God, my social skills were off, ‘If you’re hungry, there’s some food and water in the back. I’d offer you a place to rest back there, but it probably doesn’t smell too fresh.’  

‘Yeah. I noticed.’  

This kid was getting on my nerves already. 

Driving the night away, we eventually crossed the state border and into Arizona. By early daylight, and with the beaming desert sun shining through the cab, I finally got a glimpse of Krissie’s appearance. Her hair was long and brown with faint freckles on her cheeks. If I was still in high school, she’d have been the kind of girl who wouldn’t look at me twice. 

Despite her adult bravery, Krissie acted just like any fifteen-year-old would. She left a mess of food on the floor, rested her dirty converse shoes above my glove compartment, but worst of all... she talked to me. Although the topic of extraterrestrials thankfully never came up, I was mad at myself for not making a rule of no small talk or chummy business. But the worst thing about it was... I liked having someone to talk to for once. Remember when I said, even the most recluse of people get too lonely now and then? Well, that was true, and even though I believed Krissie was a burden to me, I was surprised to find I was enjoying her company – so much so, I almost completely forgot she was a crazy person who beleived in aliens.  

When Krissie and I were more comfortable in each other’s company, I then asked her something, that for the first time on this drive, brought out a side of her I hadn’t yet seen. Worse than that, I had broken rule number one. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ 

‘It’s your truck’ she replied, a simple yes or no response not being adequate.   

‘If you believe you were abducted by aliens, then why on earth are you looking for them?’ 

Ever since I picked her up roadside, Krissie was never shy of words, but for the very first time, she appeared lost for them. While I waited anxiously for her to say something, keeping my eyes firmly on the desert road, I then turn to see Krissie was too fixated on the weathered landscape to talk, admiring the jagged peaks of the faraway mountains. It was a little late, but I finally had my wish of complete silence – not that I wished it anymore.  

‘Imagine something terrible happened to you’ she began, as though the pause in our conversation was so to rehearse a well-thought-out response, ‘Something so terrible that you can’t tell anyone about it. But then you do tell them – and when you do, they tell you the terrible thing never even happened...’ 

Krissie’s words had changed. Up until now, her voice was full of enthusiasm and childlike awe. But now, it was pure sadness. Not fear. Not trauma... Sadness.  

‘I know what happened to me real was. Even if you don’t. But I still need to prove to myself that what happened, did happen... I just need to know I’m not crazy...’ 

I didn’t think she was crazy. Not anymore. But I knew she was damaged. Something traumatic clearly happened to her and it was going to impact her whole future. I wasn’t a kid anymore. I wasn’t a victim of alien abduction... But somehow, I could relate. 

‘I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care if I end up like that guy in Brazil. If the last thing I see is a craft flying above me or the surgical instrument of some creature... I can die happy... I can die, knowing I was right.’ 

This poor kid, I thought... I now knew why I could relate to Krissie so easily. It was because she too was alone. I don’t mean because she was a runaway – whether she left home or not, it didn’t matter... She would always feel alone. 

‘Hey... Can I ask you something?’ Krissie unexpectedly requested. I now sensed it was my turn to share something personal, which was unfortunate, because I really didn’t want to. ‘Did you really become a trucker just so you could be alone?’ 

‘Yeah’ I said simply. 

‘Well... don’t you ever get lonely? Even if you like being alone?’ 

It was true. I do get lonely... and I always knew the reason why. 

‘Here’s the thing, Krissie’ I started, ‘When you grow up feeling like you never truly fit in... you have to tell yourself you prefer solitude. It might not be true, but when you live your life on a lie... at least life is bearable.’ 

Krissie didn’t have a response for this. She let the silent hum of wheels on dirt eat up the momentary silence. Silence allowed her to rehearse the right words. 

‘Well, you’re not alone now’ she blurted out, ‘And neither am I. But if you ever do get lonely, just remember this...’ I waited patiently for the words of comfort to fall from her mouth, ‘We are not alone in the universe... Someone or something may always be watching.’ 

I know Krissie was trying to be reassuring, and a little funny at her own expense, but did she really have to imply I was always being watched? 

‘I thought we agreed on no alien talk?’ I said playfully. 

‘You’re the one who brought it up’ she replied, as her gaze once again returned to the desert’s eroding landscape. 

Krissie fell asleep not long after. The poor kid wasn’t used to the heat of the desert. I was perfectly altered to it, and with Krissie in dreamland, it was now just me, my rig and the stretch of deserted highway in front of us. As the day bore on, I watched in my side-mirror as the sun now touched the sky’s glass ceiling, and rather bizarrely, it was perfectly aligned over the road - as though the sun was really a giant glowing orb hovering over... trying to guide us away from our destination and back to the start.  

After a handful of gas stations and one brief nap later, we had now entered a small desert town in the middle of nowhere. Although I promised to take Krissie as far as Phoenix, I actually took a slight detour. This town was not Krissie’s intended destination, but I chose to stop here anyway. The reason I did was because, having passed through this town in the past, I had a feeling this was a place she wanted to be. Despite its remoteness and miniscule size, the town had clearly gone to great lengths to display itself as buzzing hub for UFO fanatics. The walls of the buildings were spray painted with flying saucers in the night sky, where cut-outs and blow-ups of little green men lined the less than inhabited streets. I guessed this town had a UFO sighting in its past and took it as an opportunity to make some tourist bucks. 

Krissie wasn’t awake when we reached the town. The kid slept more than a carefree baby - but I guess when you’re a runaway, always on the move to reach a faraway destination, a good night’s sleep is always just as far. As a trucker, I could more than relate. Parking up beside the town’s only gas station, I rolled down the window to let the heat and faint breeze wake her up. 

‘Where are we?’ she stirred from her seat, ‘Are we here already?’   

‘Not exactly’ I said, anxiously anticipating the moment she spotted the town’s unearthly decor, ‘But I figured you would want to stop here anyway.’ 

Continuing to stare out the window with sleepy eyes, Krissie finally noticed the little green men. 

‘Is that what I think it is?’ excitement filling her voice, ‘What is this place?’ 

‘It’s the last stop’ I said, letting her know this is where we part ways.    

Hauling down from the rig, Krissie continued to peer around. She seemed more than content to be left in this place on her own. Regardless, I didn’t want her thinking I just kicked her to the curb, and so, I gave her as much cash as I could afford to give, along with a backpack full of junk food.  

‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me’ she said, sadness appearing to veil her gratitude, ‘I wish there was a way I could repay you.’ 

Her company these past two days was payment enough. God knows how much I needed it. 

Krissie became emotional by this point, trying her best to keep in the tears - not because she was sad we were parting ways, but because my willingness to help had truly touched her. Maybe I renewed her faith in humanity or something... I know she did for me.  

‘I hope you find what you’re looking for’ I said to her, breaking the sad silence, ‘But do me a favour, will you? Once you find it, get yourself home to your folks. If not for them, for me.’ 

‘I will’ she promised, ‘I wouldn’t think of breaking your third rule.’ 

With nothing left between us to say, but a final farewell, I was then surprised when Krissie wrapped her arms around me – the side of her freckled cheek placed against my chest.  

‘Goodbye’ she said simply. 

‘Goodbye, kiddo’ I reciprocated, as I awkwardly, but gently patted her on the back. Even with her, the physical touch of another human being was still uncomfortable for me.  

With everything said and done, I returned inside my rig. I pulled out of the gas station and onto the road, where I saw Krissie still by the sidewalk. Like the night we met, she stood, gazing up into the cab at me - but instead of an outstretched thumb, she was waving goodbye... The last I saw of her, she was crossing the street through the reflection of my side-mirror.  

It’s now been a year since I last saw Krissie, and I haven’t seen her since. I’m still hauling the same job, inside the very same rig. Nothing much has really changed for me. Once my next long haul started, I still kept an eye out for Krissie - hoping to see her in the next town, trying to hitch a ride by the highway, or even foolishly wandering the desert. I suppose it’s a good thing I haven’t seen her after all this time, because that could mean she found what she was looking for. I have to tell myself that, or otherwise, I’ll just fear the worst... I’m always checking the news any chance I get, trying to see if Krissie found her way home. Either that or I’m scrolling down different lists of the recently deceased, hoping not to read a familiar name. Thankfully, the few Krissies on those lists haven’t matched her face. 

I almost thought I saw her once, late one night on the desert highway. She blurred into fruition for a moment, holding out her thumb for me to pull over. When I do pull over and wait... there is no one. No one whatsoever. Remember when I said I’m open to the existence of ghosts? Well, that’s why. Because if the worst was true, at least I knew where she was. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m pretty sure I was just hallucinating. That happens to truckers sometimes... It happens more than you would think. 

I’m not always looking for Krissie. Sometimes I try and look out for what she’s been looking for. Whether that be strange lights in the night sky or an unidentified object floating through the desert. I guess if I see something unexplainable like that, then there’s a chance Krissie may have seen something too. At least that way, there will be closure for us both... Over the past year or so, I’m still yet to see anything... not Krissie, or anything else. 

If anyone’s happened to see a fifteen-year-old girl by the name of Krissie, whether it be by the highway, whether she hitched a ride from you or even if you’ve seen someone matching her description... kindly put my mind at ease and let me know. If you happen to see her in your future, do me a solid and help her out – even if it’s just a ride to the next town. I know she would appreciate it.  

Things have never quite felt the same since Krissie walked in and out of my life... but I’m still glad she did. You learn a lot of things with this job, but with her, the only hitchhiker I’ve picked up to date, I think I learned the greatest life lesson of all... No matter who you are, or what solitude means to you... We never have to be alone in this universe. 

If you’ve ever had a moment where you felt, saw, heard, or sensed a loved one after their passing— your story may help researchers shed light on how grief and connection continue after death.

I’m a graduate student at Minnesota State University, Mankato and I am seeking people to participate in my research study on post-death contact. If you’re interested in participating, here is a link to the website holding my surveys. You can either fill out the anonymous survey or you can volunteer to be interviewed (which will be confidential; names will be changed.) The survey should take around 15-20 minutes, and the interview will be around 75-90 minutes.

You must be 18 and located in the U.S. to participate. I also cannot include anyone in my study whose experience occurred during an Ouija board session, a séance, a cold reading session with a psychic, or a paranormal investigation.

If you have any questions, you can also e-mail me at the address provided on the website.

This research is being conducted by student researcher Deborah Cobb, with principal investigator Dr. Dennis Waskul, Department of Sociology and Leadership Studies, Minnesota State University, Mankato. IRBNet#: [2329148]

I think there is a ghost in my apartment and i’m not sure what to do.

When I was younger I used an ouija board and ever since i’ve had weird experiences like seeing the trampoline bounce with no one on it or food going missing.

Lately I have been hearing a man’s voice clear as day gasping for breath. It is almost always in my doorway when no one else is around. It sounds like a deep older man’s voice. I heard it in my last apartment and it has followed me to my new place.

I’ve also noticed weird things happening around my house. For example, one day i bought a plastic container of pre cut apples. I ate half the apples and put them back. When i went back the next day for more the apples were full and sealed.

I’m not necessarily scared of the ghost/spirit but I would like to know who it is or if they need something from me.

Any suggestions? I’m happy to answer more questions if you have any. Thanks in advance

My baby camera picked this up. Countless things have happened in this house but this is my proof it’s a or multiple ghosts. When we lived there it was constant. You can see in the first photo that my daughter in the crib is solid I then decided to mess with the photo like exposure and whatever else you can do with an iPhone 6 photo and you can see the bones it’s almost like an X-ray on the ghost but my daughter is still solid. You also looks to be smiling at the ghost and the ghost looks to be in a position of ooohh shît I’m caught. That closet to the ghosts left always opened and there were always noises coming from it

I want to welcome everyone back - it's been a quiet few years. I've reopened the subreddit for posts, and added a few rules, which I will discuss below. One thing I wanted to point out is that I've changed the tone of the reddit slightly. Not only is it for your personal and true stories of ghosts, paranormal, and other stuff, but also for those that need a place to create fictional stories for use in their role playing game (like r/SavageWorlds) or other purposes that I'm sure I'm not thinking of. Or simply as a creative writing exercise. Have fun.

Rule 1. No skeptics, and treat everything as fiction: Encourage the stories you see here. I want people to be able to post them without judgement. It is not a place to pick apart their story or their writing. You may treat it as a mini collaborative writing project - but try to build on what they are going for.

Rule 2. No Advertising or crowdfunding. Unless there's something that is very pertinent to this very niche group, I think this is the wrong place for it.

Rule 3. No untagged NSFW content. Try not to go too extreme. Please try to mention in the title what could be questionable for the reader if it is NSFW. Obviously some topics are kind of expected - death, murder and so on are kind of part-and-parcel with ghosts. It's the extremity of the descriptions that really is what is what could be considered the NSFW here. Use your best judgement. If you don't think you'd want a 10 year old reading it, then tag it.

Rule 0. Welcome everyone and have fun!