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I wasn't entirely sure if this thread belonged in the "Magick" section, but it seemed as good a place as any. Got any good stories to share?
My own ghost story:
A few years back, I was a volunteer at an area homeless shelter. It was common for them to have a "house meeting" on a pre-designated night, a night I had offered to cook for the shelter residents. After their meeting was over and I was finishing up the dishes and putting the leftovers away, a ruckus broke out. It seemed that a newcomer had not been at the meeting (they were mandatory) and that the upstairs bathroom had been locked for a long time, and whoever was inside wasn't responding.
One of the staff members finally decided it was time to break the bathroom door down, and there was said newcomer lying on the floor, a syringe in his arm. And he was of course, dead of a heroin overdose. The police showed up in full force, kept questioning everyone (apparently they were also trying to track down someone in the area who was dealing bad H). The place was in a general uproar.
A week later, I was back cooking there again, and at one point went to use the upstairs bathroom. Even though it was mid-summer and the place had no air conditioning, it was ice cold in that room. The hair on my arms was standing straight up and I kept getting the feeling there was someone in there with me, but I brushed it off as nothing, tried not to think about it.
Another week goes by, I return again to cook. I went out onto the front porch to smoke after getting all my prep work done and putting stuff in the oven, and then it happened. Right there, on the porch, in broad daylight, sitting right in front of me, was the guy who had O.D.'d upstairs. My head felt funny, kind of tight and weird as though I were on a plane and the air-pressure was building up, and the temperature seemed to drop by 20 degrees. Then he vanished. He didn't look at me or even seem to notice me. He did seem sad though, just sitting there staring out at the road. (I found out later that the chair he was sitting in was his favourite "thinking" spot).
Others in the shelter reported the same thing to me in confidence, the cold spot where he died, seeing him on the porch from time to time. It was as if he couldn't believe he was dead, at least that was the impression that I got.
Eventually, I asked the shelter director if his family had been contacted, which it turned out they hadn't. No one could seem to track them down. It took a while, but eventually they were found halfway across the country, a sister with her own family. Turned out she hadn't heard from him in years. He had been wandering for a long time, he was also a Vietnam vet, a medic with an airborne unit who had seen more than his share of pain and loss. It was known that he went frequently to a Veteran's center in town, and hung out at a VFW bar in the area from time to time. I decided to get a huge roll of paper, the kind you see in art class in school, and it was turned into a giant condolensce card for his sister and her family. I had everyone sign it, the people in the shelter, his drinking buddies, the other Vets, and then it was mailed off.
The next day, the cold spot and the apparitions stopped. I guess I made the right decision, trying to bring some closure to his life and untimely death. And I will NEVER forget the feeling of seeing him on the porch that day, that was without a doubt the strangest feeling I've ever had, one I'm not all that eager to repeat.
Your turn. |
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