Mysterious stories and haunting

Anthrax.

So, was that a haunting, liars, or a crazy woman?

I'm fascinated by reports of "holes" and voids that appear in reality. Some of them were documented by Arthur C. Clarke.

In one version a man came out of the building and discovered a giant hole in the sidewalk. So he showed his wife out of shock. Neither could determine what would have caused such a great deep hole. So they got some plywood and covered the hole and went to town for something. When they came back and removed the plywood the hole was gone and the ground was solid and normal looking once more.

In another story, a couple called the police and reported that a black hole or void opened up in the floor of the room. It sucked in air and debris and almost sucked in an elderly man as his wife watched helplessly from the bed. The hole or void suddenly closed up all on it's own, leaving a huge mess in the room. The police investigated but found no sign of any hole in the floor. And what makes matters worse is that the room wasn't even on the ground floor.

What are these strange holes and voids? Could they literally be portals to other worlds?

As a small child I watched an enormous snake with purple and white spots (a sign of being poisonous in the plant kingdom) writhe about for about twenty minutes before going in the house and telling my mother. It was horrifying yet fascinating and the entire world looked as if it was being viewed under fogged glass and went silent and time slowed down.

I experienced a natural DMT release, which can happened to children under five and the dying.

I love the Borley Rectory story. It's complete bunk, but it proves that all you need is a clever hoaxster and a book with a great title.

What is "a natural DMT release"?

R6,

we all have DMT in our bodies and brains, it exists everywhere in nature, and it causes the hallucinations so sought after through the ayahuasca rituals.

During the ayahuasca ritual many see giant snakes or grey aliens, even ufo's. Those who have taken DMT in a lab-derived pill form always report seeing fairies and elves, and describe whole fairy lands in great detail.

I don't know if DMT causes these sightings or if it allows our brains to access a reality that we ordinarily cannot see.

I'm fascinated by the Dyatlov Pass incident.

I have known of a couple of lost rings that were lost and searched for...years later they just showed up exactly where they were lost. One report was from a friend, another report was on the news, because it happened in a public place, on a cobblestone street.

[quote] I'm fascinated by the Dyatlov Pass incident.

Someone should start a thread about this.

The moving coffins of Barbados

Go for your Dyatlov Pass fun here.

Idiot put the link in the wrong box

I don't really believe many occult stories or conspiracy theories, but if there was one I'd give a greater-than-50% chance of being true, it's this one:

Achille and Giovanni Judica-Cordiglia were two Italian brothers who, during the early days of the Space Race, built an amateur radio tracking station and captured hours of recordings of both the US and Soviet space flights. A lot of their recordings at least leave open the possibility that there were a lot of Soviet spaceflight failures that were covered up. And honestly, given how often things went wrong with the Soviet space program, and the general cloak of secrecy cast over everything, a lot of it is plausible.

There's one in particular that happened shortly before Yuri Gagarin's flight: they recorded what they thought was the sound of a cosmonaut suffocating to death. Around the same time, the Soviets announced that they'd had a failure of an unmanned space flight.

There's even a creepy recording that they claim is of a female cosmonaut (prior to Valentina Tereshkova) burning up on reentry.

I love reading about strange coincidences.

More incredible coincidences.

bump

R1

Here's your tale in a movie !!

[quote]What are these strange holes and voids? Could they literally be portals to other worlds?

They're quite terrestrial. Trust me.

The OP's story reminds me of the plot of Otto Preminger's "Bunny Lake is Missing." Interesting movie that falls apart in the second half:

[quote]Ann Lake (Carol Lynley) is a single mom who has just moved to London from America. After dropping off her four-year-old daughter at her new school, Ann returns to her flat to attend to the movers but when she returns to pick up her daughter, she is nowhere to be found. In fact, no one at the school recalls ever seeing the child. Scotland Yard Inspector Newhouse (Laurence Olivier) is immediately brought in on the case but begins to wonder if the child even existed. In fact, Ann's psychological state soon becomes the focus of the investigation, as the search for the missing child proves futile.

I think there was an episode of either The Twilight Zone or Alfred Hitchcock Presents that had the same sick mother, hotel room with specific curtains tropes.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: "Into Thin Air" starring Pat Hitchcock

THE BiG VALLEY

6 November 1967 (Season 3, Episode 8)

'The Disappearance'

"Audra ? Anthrax ? NO.........NO..............NO !!!"

bump

Is there a link to the audio of the Judica-Cordiglia recordings?

We've probably all had what felt like ghostly or haunting events in our lifetimes that we can't explain. I have had two, both relating to people who died in my home.

Here's the one that's supposed to be of the woman who didn't make it back down.

It's really creepy.

I'm fascinated by why the whorish Kardashians have careers. I mean, anyone can sell a tape of their daughter being sodomized.

Thanks, R27. There was nothing creepy about it, though.

Do tell, R26!!!

Well, R30, I should start by pointing out that mine is the same family that had the Pearl Silverman experience, for those who read the Murders that Haunt You thread. My grandmother, the woman who sent my mother into the Silverman murder house, was healthy as a horse for 85 years. She lives downstairs and when she came up to spend time with us she took the back stairway. My bedroom was in the back of the house, on the other side of the wall from that stairway. I could always hear her coming up the stairs and she had a very distinctive gaIt. She wore these big black shoes that looked like men's shoes.

When she was 85 she took a very sudden turn for the worse, and took to her bed sick. Two days later, she was dead. Everyone was shocked. I was, I think, about 12. Of course my mother was stunned, having lost her mother so quickly.

She died in May. Soon, I was on summer vacation. As a tween (although we weren't called that yet), I often stayed up late watching tv etc during the summer and so woke late as well. One morning at about 11am I woke up with a start. I was very surprised to hear sounds in the back stairway. It was someone coming up the stairs. It was my grandmother's gait. Forty years later I still remember laying there completely paralysed with fear. I was the only person home as my parents both worked and my sister was at camp. My mind was racing -- had I just dreamt my grandmother's death, and she was actually still with us? But her death seemed so real. No, I hadn't dreamt it. She was dead. But that gait right on the other side of the wall was her alright. I listened as the sound reached the top of the stairs, a door in our kitchen.

I didn't know what I would do if I heard the door open.

I don't know how long I lay there waiting. Maybe two hours. There wasn't another sound. Eventually I gathered the courage to get up and go outside and look around but I couldn't open the kitchen door. Eventually my parents came home and we had an eventful evening, my mother telling me I was probably asleep and dreaming when I heard the sounds. I wasn't. That much I knew and still know today. We lived in a very bad neighborhood and my father was convinced someone had broken in. He searched every square inch of the house but found nothing out of order.

I had a sleepless night that night but never heard the sounds again.

Different people own the house now, and have for many years. I wonder sometimes if they ever hear strange footsteps in the rear stairway at night.

Second story will follow.

"As a small child I watched an enormous snake with purple and white spots (a sign of being poisonous in the plant kingdom) writhe about for about twenty minutes before going in the house and telling my mother. "

I wonder what the snake told R6 's mother.... (Perhaps that your lack of English grammar skills has made your story seem completely ridiculous?)

Second story concerns my grand-aunt, my grandmother's sister. She lived separately from us a few blocks away, but there was a lot of talk about moving her in with us as she had what was called "hardening of the arteries" and she was becoming quite senile, and anyway the neighborhood was terrible and she was alon. But she was an extremely imperious and stubborn woman and refused -- until my grandmother died. She more or less fell apart after that and we moved her into the downstairs apartment where my grandmother had lived.

After some break-ins in the neighborhood, and considering her still-declining health, we soon moved her closer still -- up into our apartment on the second floor, in a small bedroom in the front of the house off the living room.

What followed over the next year or so I will spare you. She declined and I must confess life for everyone became extremely difficult. Some of you who've had an experience like this with a very old person (89) may know what I mean.

Naturally, she died while my parents were away at Marriage Encounter for the weekend, and only my 12 year old sister and I were there. She asked us to lift her out of the chair in the living room and take her to bed. My little sister and I took her by her cold stiff body and carried her into bed. It was like carrying a board. We could hear her in there talking to God about how she didn't want to go, wanted more time. Luckily for us my parents were due home and we told them what had transpired as soon as they got home. My father checked on her and said she had seemed to have died.

So another death in our home.

(Cont'd)

A few weeks later my mother and sister were at an after-school event and my father was working late. I was home alone. I was sitting at the kitchen table making a model kit, and as time passed night fell, darkening the house. The only light that was on was the light in the kitchen. The rest of the house was very dark.

Where I was sitting in the kitchen I could look all the way down to the front of the house. While there were no lights on, there were street lights on outside and a little light shone very dimly into the living room, casting shadows. And as I focused on my model I kept seeing, from the corner of my eye, a shadow moving in the living room, back and forth between the bedroom where my grand-aunt had slept (and died) and the chair where she had watched tv. I kept seeing it and trying not to see it but there it was, movement in my peripheral vision. I didn't want to, but finally I turned my head to look square into the living room.

There standing in the middle of the living room was the shadow of a person. It was moving but when I turned my head it stopped. Then after a moment it moved again and walked toward the chair. TOTAL PANIC SET IN. But I was trapped there in the kitchen. Moments later I saw something even worse. The shadow was emerging again, but it looked almost like it was hiding, just the leading edge of the shadow in my field of vision. Like it was aware I was watching and did not want to be seen so was lurking at the edge of the pitch black.

I've never in my life stared at anything as intently as I did at the edge of that shadow. I stared at it so hard bluish blotches appeared in my eyes -- you know when you stare TOO closely at something? Again I was in the position of having no idea what I would do if the shadow began approaching me. I felt I would just die if the fright got worse.

I disliked my father and for good reason but I was never in my life so glad to hear him unlock the door downstairs and come up the front stairway. There was this one moment of wild panic about what I would see when he turned the light on but there was absolutely nothing there. Which REALLY frightened me -- you know when you see a shadow and it looks menacing but in the light of day you laugh because it was just something very ordinary throwing a misleading shadow? Nothing like that was there.

This time I kept my mouth shut for several years because I was afraid I'd sound completely mental. And hell, maybe I do. I'm a rational person and not religious, but I don't laugh at people when they claim to have had experiences of this kind. To this day I cannot explain the experiences I had.

A few weeks later my mother came over and took a hold of the hair on my temples. She noticed a lot of silver hair had come out. I was 14.

R34, thanks for the stories. And, holy shit! I'd have had a heart attack.

R26, great stories! You have a way with words because your stories scared me and I wasn't even there to witness those events.

Well, it's 1AM and now I'm petrified. Looks like the lights will be staying on tonight.

R26, your stories are among the most believable I have ever read on these "ghost story" threads on DL. And I have been coming here for many years. That last one made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Holy hellballs, I would have been terrified beyond words at seeing that shadow/figure or whatever the hell it was!

I worked in a restaurant that was built out of an old house that was haunted. I have all kinds of tales but this one is good because it involves a physical object made to move on its own. One of my routine closing duties was to "walk the kitchen," meaning checking every door, window, light, and appliance to see that all had been shut down and locked up for the night. I was often alone at this hour and seldom frightened even when I did have ghostly experiences, although I had already noticed that those things tended to happen when you least expected them. Let me add that on several occasions more than one person at a time had seen objects literally fly off the kitchen shelves and land feet away.

One night when I was the only one there, after making sure the place was ready to close, I used the employee rest room which was built into one corner of the kitchen. Even when I was alone, I would routinely close the rest room door and lock it. But that night, in a blankly casual mood, I left the door partly open as I sat down and did my business. Apparently something or someone objected to my crassness because I was startled by the clatter of a metallic crash from the empty kitchen. I thought perhaps a stack of pans had toppled in the dish sink. But when I emerged from the rest room there was nothing in the dish sink nor any sign of fallen (or flying) pots and pans anywhere.

Then I noticed that the top drawer of our bread warmer, which I had checked and closed minutes earlier, was now open as far as it could go. It was made of metal and in it sat a separate empty metal "hotel pan." I closed the drawer and flung it open a couple times. It made the same crashing din of metal on metal that I had heard while sitting on the toilet. I got down on my knees to examine the low shelf on which the bread warmer sat. I thought maybe I had left the drawer almost closed and it had merely rolled open, although you really had to fling it open with a bang to create the crashing effect I heard. But then I saw that both the shelf and the bread warmer leaned noticeably in the opposite direction, meaning that the drawer might easily roll itself closed, but to hurl itself open the drawer would have to roll uphill. Some force set it in motion but what?

It was one of those unexplained oddities that we would laugh at and shrug off, although a few of our ghostly encounters made our blood run cold.

There was a similar DL thread a while back that included a story about two women who claimed to have entered into a time warp while they were out walking or something along those lines. What is the name of that legend?

You need a grammar lesson, R32. OP is the subject, and the snake is the object. OP's grammar is clumsy but correct.

Let's read more carefully before criticizing.

R40, the Versailled Time Slip.

R39, tell us about the blood-running-cold stories

Versailles Time Slip

You're going to think I have a toilet fixation, R43, but the scariest thing that ever happened to me at the haunted restaurant was the night I apparently chased a male ghost out of our customers' men's room. It was another late night but I was not alone. My boss was out in the kitchen angrily giving it a second going over after our exhausted staff left it a mess on a particularly busy night. We had done a great deal of cash business that night and I remarked to my boss that this would be a good night for a robber to hold up the place.

I was closing down the front of the house. One of my routine duties was to check the rest rooms to see that lights were out and sinks and toilets not running. As I propped open the men's room door using its wastebasket, I heard the old wooden door to the toilet stall inside the men's room start creaking back and forth several times - creak, creak, creak, creak, creak. I turned and saw the open stall door moving ever so slightly. Then it stopped. "Hmpf!" I scoffed silently, "must be the ghosts." I then went to check the women's room whose door faced the men's room door.

Timing is important here. Imagine that while I leave the men's room and give the women's room a quick heads-up, a man exits the men's room behind me then rounds the corner and heads down the hallway toward the front of the building. In just the amount of time it would have taken a man to slip past me, I quickly checked the women's room then rounded the same corner and started down the hallway. That is where I saw him - a man, about five foot ten with broad shoulders and silver gray hair. He appeared to be fleeing from me as headed rapidly toward the front dining room. It wasn't a question of "what is that?" it was a clear "who are YOU?" Then I realized he wasn't really there at all.

I reacted just like they do in the movies and cartoons. I stopped dead in my tracks and my feet were rooted to the spot. I heard myself gasp as my mouth dropped and my eyes bugged out and I could feel all the blood draining from my face and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Frozen with astonishment and fear, I watched the broad-shouldered man continue down the hall, past the bar and into the far dining room where he ran right through the tables and chairs and disappeared out of sight as he rounded a corner into the doorway at the far end of the room. It happened in a matter of seconds but it was like time slowed and I was fully aware that I was clearly seeing the specter of a specific human form that was there but not there.

Finally, I began yelling for my boss, calling out her name over and over, reassured just to hear the sound of my own voice bellowing in the empty hallway. Realizing I could move again, I bolted to the kitchen. My boss told me that my face was white as a sheet when I came in. By then I was hollering, "It was only a ghost! It was only a ghost!" as my boss hollered back, "Are you sure? Are you sure?" We did that a couple times back and forth then burst out laughing at our own frantic behavior. After we calmed down we beat it out of there as quickly as we could. But there was nothing else to be scared of. Once a thing like that happened, it could be months before anything else unusual would occur. Although sometimes we did have cluster sightings. . .

R45, thanks! (I have goose bumps!)

So...what are cluster sightings? And how old is the restaurant/house? Did you notice the clothes on the silver-haired ghost?

No, R41. Make me.

I have so many weird and frightening stories, so I'll just give you one for tonight. In the early '80s, I was living on the top floor of an old house outside of Fishkill, NY, on Route 376, in an area called Lomala. The old, four-story house had two occupants, me, and an old lady who lived across the hall from me on the top floor. It was a lovely setting, and backed up onto a private park, and had a small creek that had a very old bridge, and beautiful weeping willows along edge of the creek. I was lucky to have found a tiny apartment in such a beautiful place. At that time, the area hadn't been built up, like it is now. It was very rural, out in the middle of nowhere.

The house had quite a history. George Washington had stayed in the house across the creek, and the bottom floor of our house had been stables where he and his soldiers kept their horses. There was a plaque from NY state saying so on the front of my house. One tiny room on the bottom floor still had a packed dirt floor. It was a very creepy house, but I was just out of college, and it was what I could afford.

One night, shortly after I moved in, I was in bed, and I started hearing noises from the attic above me. It sounded like boots walking across the attic floor. The boots sound would stop, and it sounded like a wooden chair was being moved, like a person had pulled it from a table and had sat down. That was the only sound I heard. It kept up night after night, in the exact pattern. Boots, then chair. I asked the old lady across the hall what was up there, and she said nothing, just an attic that was accessed by pulling down steps from the ceiling right outside my apartment door. It was really frightening, but what could I do? I was too poor to move at that time, so I had to stick it out there. I was NOT going to go up to the attic to look.

I bought a dog, a playful golden retreiver, who loved to snuggle up in bed with me. He also heard the sounds. He would jump up from sleeping on the bed and stare at the ceiling , very curious, cocking his head the way dogs do as they are trying to figure something out., as he and I heard the boots and the chair moving. It was a confirmation of what I was hearing, and it went on every night for months, maybe even a year. I was petrified. My job in Westchester County (far away, but so expensive, I couldn't live there) had me arriving home on weekends at 3 a.m. It was so scary walking into that house alone at 3 a.m. My thought was that it was a ghost from George Washington's troops, a soldier who had died?

So, I did the only thing I could think of, which would have looked and sounded crazy to anybody watching. One night, I looked up at the bedroom ceiling and said aloud, " I know you were here before me, but I'm a poor student, and I can't leave here now. I need to share this space with you for awhile, and the sounds are scaring me and my dog. I promise you, I'll move as soon as I can, but can we live together in this house for awhile? I'll leave you alone, if you leave me alone. The only thing I ask is that you don't appear in my apartment and scare me, especially at night."

The sounds stopped, and my dog and I never heard them again.

Did you really just type, "make me," R47?

Your ripostes are as weak as your grasp of grammar.

Please think through what you want to post before posting. You're not doing yourself any favors.

*Thinking* Yeah, make me.

I will only read this thread in daytime!

[bold]REDRUM!![/bold]

One afternoon last September, I was sitting on the sofa with my laptop with the only other living being in the house being my (then) 7-year old cat. Her favorite afternoon sleeping spot then was on my bed. That's where she was when I was startled by the growling sound a fighting cat makes. I only have one cat and she's an ordinary cat, not prone to weird behavior, so it definitely got my attention to hear the angry cat growling sound coming from upstairs. I put my laptop aside and went upstairs and then down the hall toward my bedroom, growing increasingly unnerved as her growls become interspersed with hisses. I thought maybe another cat was in the house somehow (it happened once when I first moved in), but I was only hearing sounds of one cat. As I continued down the hall the first thing that came into view was my cat crouched on the bed, ears laid back flat and fur standing straight out. She was pissed and focused on the other end of the room. As I got closer, I could see the cheval mirror near the far wall and in it, the reflection of what my cat was looking at – a very grim looking man staring at my cat like he hated her. His lips were curled back and his face was grimaced like some people get when they're about to shout obscenities. When I saw him, I sprang the last few steps to the doorway and shouted “hey!” - simultaneously angry and scared upon finding an intruder in my house. But when I burst into the room where I could confront the man directly instead of just seeing his reflection in the mirror, there was no one there. Not really comprehending his disappearance, my eyes darted all over the room looking for him. Then I looked in the closet, under the bed, and checked the windows. Nothing. He just wasn't there. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, then went back out into the hall to view it from the angle of my earlier approach to the room. Still nothing. By this point my cat had calmed down and her hair was already mostly settled, though she was assertively twitching her tail in the way she does when she’s annoyed. I sat down and reached for her and she responded the usual way – by rubbing her head against my hand. I don’t know the history of my house and have no idea who the man could have been or why he was in my room. I've only owned the house for two years and he was not anyone I've ever seen before. My cat is fine and I haven't heard her growl at anything since, though instead of finding her sleeping on my bed like I used to when I get home from work, she’s typically curled up in a chair in the living room these days.

I may have told this here before, and if so, sorry.

My mother and I weren't particularly close, but starting from about the age of six, I would hear her voice in my head calling my name when she wanted me, even though she hadn't gotten around to saying anything yet. I don't know how many times it happened before I realized she hadn't really been calling me -- I distinctly remember coming in to wash my hands before dinner and her saying she was "just about" to call, and me saying no, you did call. She denied it. I learned pretty quickly to just not mention it when I heard the voice in my head, and I had no other audio hallucinations.

As I got older, I'd hear her voice during after-school activities, or a couple times during shopping if I was in a different aisle. When I left home, I'd hear her voice calling my name just before she phoned.

Once I picked up the phone before it rang without thinking. Mom was kind of freaked out. I did it again a few months later, this time picking up the phone before it rang, and still hearing my mom dialing the phone. There was no way we should have been connected, but we were.

The thing is, it never happened when anything major occurred. It was always for piddly little things like calling to say hi or wondering why I wasn't home from music lessons yet. And as soon as mom died, it stopped completely.

[quote] I'm fascinated by this subject

Yes, we know Davida. You post repetitive thread after thread about the same tired ass murders and supernatural hogwash. We know you're fascinated by George Clooney, too. And your shoes got poop on them in a hotel bathroom. And the USPS in Las Vegas has been ignoring you and not delivering the cards of your potential gentlemen callers for 20 years.

That's "Duhvida" that's been parenthesed out.

The Bellagio Horror

Attending an event at Bellagio hotel/casino one dark and stormy night, I needed to use the Women's Restroom. I was by myself, alone in an unfamiliar restroom. I began to hear strange noises when suddenly.

There. In the middle of using the toilet, I saw a huge flood of DARK BROWN FECES flooding my stall from the one next to it. My heart was pounding, my palms sweaty, my brain could not comprehend the horror I was experiencing.

My brand new Satin high heels and large cloth bag were immediately covered in the filthy poop. I "finished" as quickly as possible and went to the bathroom sink. The smell was horrific. I reeled in terror and held back the nausea which iverwhelned me i stumbled blindly ro safety and I told the housekeeper what had happened.

She yelled at me in front of the other patrons that I should have inspected the stall before using it. She didn't care that the flood of shit happened after I was using the toilet. She ignored my request for help in cleaning my shoes and cloth bag. I had to stand in my stocking feet on the restroom floor, and clean someone else's feces off of my things. I was chilled! I thought of all tne mysterious murders, all the unsolved disappearances, all the supernatural forces arrayed against me and concluded I had no choice but to wear the shoes out of the restroom, and carry the cloth bag.

I then called for a shift manager. After a long wait, he finally showed up. His response? He didn't see the incident so there was nothing that he could do to help me. It was as if I had never been in that bathroom, as if I had never experienced the FULL FLUSH OF HORROR.

I would be happy to take a lie detector test to prove that what I'm saying is 100% true and accurate.

You need to visit Goldfield, Nevada... over 100 ghosts living here.

I gasped as I realized the turd tsunami would overtake me before I could wrap up the pinching of my own loaf. I could not fully let loose my ass salami before being awash in a tidal wave of kak. I was in the midst of a literal shitstorm. I was up that famous oderferous creek without a paddle. I was dashed by the difficult brown. Pummeled in a pas de poo.

The Ghosts of Versailles

On August 10, 1901 two English women visited the gardens of the Petit Trianon near Versailles. The controversy over exactly what these women saw there on that day would linger on for decades.

The two women were Anne Moberly and Eleanor Jourdain, both academics, principal and vice-principal respectively of St. Hugh's College, Oxford. They were on vacation in France and decided to spend a day at Versailles. They first toured the palace and then agreed to explore the grounds in search of the Petit Trianon. Here is a rough account of what happened next:

They began searching for the Petit Trianon but became lost. As they wandered, they passed a deserted farmhouse and noticed an old plough lying by the side of the road. Immediately, they both began to feel strange, as if a heavy mood was oppressing their spirits. Two men dressed in "long greyish-green coats with small three-cornered hats" passed them. The women asked these men the way to the Petit Trianon and were directed down a path directly in front of them. They proceeded down this path until they came upon a gazebo shaded by trees. The dark mood hung even heavier over them here. Everything was very still. A repulsive looking man, his face pitted with small-pox was standing by the gazebo, and he stared unpleasantly at them.

Just then someone came rushing up behind them and warned them that they were going the wrong way. They were told to cross a small bridge, and when they did so they arrived at what they assumed to be the Petit Trianon. Here a woman was sitting on a stool, sketching. She wore an old-fashioned dress, covered with a pale green scarf. Again, they experienced a sensation of intense gloom. Suddenly a footman came rushing out of a nearby building, slamming the door behind himself. The footman told them that the entrance to the Petit Trianon was on the other side of the building, and so they walked around the house where they found a wedding party waiting to tour the rooms. The dark mood lifted, and nothing else unusual happened.

Three months later, back in England, Moberly happened to mention the sketching woman to Jourdain. Jourdain declared that she had not seen such a woman. They were intrigued by this element of mystery. How could one of them have seen a figure and not the other? When they further compared recollections they both remembered feeling that something strange had occurred in the garden, so they decided to each write down a separate account of what they had seen and compare notes.

It turned out that there were a number of figures whom Moberly had seen whom Jourdain had not, but on other details they agreed. Investigating further, Jourdain discovered that the day on which they had visited the palace was the anniversary of the sacking of the Tuileries in 1792, when Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette had witnessed the massacre of their Swiss Guards and had been imprisoned in the Hall of the Assembly.

The two began to wonder if they had somehow seen the ghost of Marie Antoinette, or rather, if they had somehow telepathically entered into one of the Queen's memories left behind in that location. As if to confirm their suspicion, Moberly came across a picture of Marie Antoinette drawn by the artist Wertmüller. To her astonishment it depicted the same sketching woman she had seen near the Petit Trianon. Even the clothes were the same.

Intrigued by the growing mystery, Jourdain returned to Versailles in January 1902 and discovered that she was unable to retrace their earlier steps. The grounds seemed mysteriously altered. She then learned that on October 5, 1789 Marie Antoinette had been sitting at the Petit Trianon when she first learned that a mob from Paris was marching towards the palace gates. Jourdain and Moberly decided that Marie Antoinette's memory of this terrifying moment must have somehow lingered and persisted through the years, and it was into this memory that they had inadvertently stumbled. This explained the sensation of dark depression they had felt at the time.

The two women sent a letter to the Society for Psychical Research declaring their discovery that the Trianon was haunted. But the Society deemed their claims unworthy of investigation. Thereupon the two women decided to conduct a full-scale investigation of their own to prove that they had seen the ghost of Marie Antoinette. The accounts of Versailles they wrote in 1901 were the corner-stone of this investigation. They sought to prove that in these accounts they had accurately described what Versailles looked like in 1789. Their argument was that because they did not possess any knowledge of eighteenth-century Versailles when they wrote these accounts, it would have been impossible for them to produce such detailed descriptions unless the scene they had witnessed really was Marie Antoinette's memory of 1789 Versailles that they had somehow stumbled into.

The result of their investigation was the publication in 1911 of a book titled An Adventure. They published it under the pseudonyms of Miss Morison and Miss Lamont. This is some of the evidence they unearthed: They had seen a plough, but on later trips they learned that no ploughs had been kept in the gardens of Versailles in 1901. However, an old plough had been displayed on the grounds in 1789. They had crossed a small bridge, but on later trips they could not locate this same bridge. However, they discovered that a bridge had existed there in 1789. They had seen two men in green coats. These men, they later learned, were wearing the uniform of Marie Antoinette's Swiss Guard. They had seen a sinister, pock-marked man. This man exactly resembled Comte de Vaudreuil, an enemy of Marie Antoinette. They saw a footman rush out of a building and slam a door shut behind himself. However, this door was actually barred and bolted shut when they visited, and had been kept so for many years. Finally, the sketching lady herself could have been no one else but Marie Antoinette.

An Adventure provoked an outpouring of public interest, selling 11,000 copies by 1913. But it also attracted a great deal of criticism. Critics argued that the two women either simply got lost, or their memories of what they had seen were mistaken.

It's yet another "BOO" thread for our resident idiot, DUHvida Witchiepooshoes. A crazy old bat who is obsessed with the "supernatural" because she can't deal with reality.

The two women defended themselves, and published the accounts of their experience that they had each written in November 1901 as proof that they had seen things which they later discovered corresponded exactly to what the grounds of Versailles looked like in 1789. They argued that there was no way they could have known about such details.

After the women died (Jourdain in 1924, Moberly in 1937) their identities were revealed. The revelation that they were respected academics created further interest in the case, and a series of studies of the case followed.

The most damaging analysis of their claims appeared in 1950, written by W.H. Salter. Salter concluded, based upon a close review of Jourdain and Moberly's correspondence with the Society for Psychical Research, that many details included in the accounts they had (supposedly) written in 1901 had actually been added at a much later date, in 1906, after the women had conducted extensive historical research. This discovery cast serious doubt upon their claims, because their entire case had rested upon the impossibility of the two of them, in 1901, being able to give an accurate description of 1789 Versailles.

It is likely that the two women sincerely believed that they saw something mysterious on their visit to Versailles in 1901. But they so badly wanted others to believe that they had seen something that, whether consciously or not, they embellished their evidence. In this way they managed to reassure themselves of the reality of their ghost sighting and simultaneously persuaded a significant portion of the public to share their belief.

This thread needs to go in the Get A Fucking Blog category.

Jesus fucking christ.

R54, when my mom would call, I would often know it was her before I answered. My sister was the same. My mom had such a domineering personality, somehow it never seemed strange to us. It was just, of course we would know when it was her.

Call the police! Someone is holding a gun to R64's head and forcing her to read this thread!!!

R64 Poor darling, having a religious experience?

[quote]the nausea which iverwhelned me

Is that you, Ypir?

I know this is a D*vida thread but The Ghosts of Versailles stuff is fascinating.

And since this D*vida cunt will never get banned and you can't ignore her properly because her IP changes all the time, we might as well enjoy some of the non-crazy stuff that gets posted here.

I always found the Versailles story fascinating, too.

The DL STALKER and IDENTITY THIEF with MULTIPLE FELONIES on POLICE RECORD, and with a warrant presently out for his arrest for FRAUD, and with the mentality of a 3-year-old, 350 lb+ James Walsh thinks he's so clever endlessly repeating silly versions of a banned name to avoid DL rules. The powerless, weak BULLY always feels compelled to falsely accuse one DL subscriber of writing every single post he doesn't like for whatever inane reason. Well this is the very 1st post that person has written on this thread.

Of course that will just make permanent welfare recipient James Walsh, who stupidly threw away his life savings of thousands and thousands of dollars on the most ridiculous business "venture" ever imagined (because even the Facebook founder and billionaire didn't need to read a book on how to develop a successful business, and so he James Walsh doesn't see the need for a business plan nor to demonstrate a proven way to make money, least of all a PROFIT, from one's own business) go into another alcoholic rage and write some more extremely immature posts, in a ridiculous attempt to demonstrate "his superiority." Skip posts he doesn't like reading? Why only a mature man would not behave like a little brat.

file under -strange holes and voids, this happened to me a very long time ago. When i was in my very early teens, my younger sister and i had to share a very large bedroom in our family's two story townhouse. Our beds were on opposite walls of the room providing us each with a semblance of privacy.

One night for no apparent reason i awoke and sat up in bed. As i looked around i saw something that was so completely out of this world that i thought i must be dreaming it. In the center of the bedroom the ceiling had disappeared and i was looking through a giant portal (roughly 10 feet in diameter) and at the other end of the portal was a star filled night sky something you'd see in a astronomy photograph. Mind you this is Los Angeles and with all the smog and light pollution you were lucky to be able to see Venus at night, never stars like this. I'm quietly freaking out, then i remember that my sister is at the other side of the room. so i start whispering (I don't know why i was whispering, maybe i was scared it would go away before anyone else could see it) her name trying to get her to wake up. After a couple tries she grouchily wakes up. By now i've grabbed a piece of paper off my night stand and have scribbled a few words describing what i was seeing in order to compare to what if anything my sister might see.

I tell her to look up to the ceiling she does and she completely freaks out "what the fuck is that" she screeches. I urgently tell her to describe to me exactly what she's seeing. She tells me that there's a fucking giant hole in the ceiling and way beyond it is a sky full of stars. So i'm not hallucinating i sigh with relief. the curtains are at her side of the room, so i ask her to open the curtains, just in case it's some weird reflection coming in from the outside. she does, but opening the curtains only lets outside light in but the portal is still there.

now were both completely awake and believe or not we're having a rather calm conversation as to what we are seeing. i get out of bed and walk directly under the portal for a better look. It seems to me that the portal is about 20 feet long, think of it as if i was looking through a large tunnel and the stars where on the other side of this tunnel. My sense was that i was looking into another world, or maybe another side of the universe, like i said, our home is in the middle of Los Angeles and no where in LA, or any where on this planet could one see a sky like the one me and my sister were looking at. I finally say, i'm going to turn on the light and get a better look, but as soon as i turned on the light, boom it was gone. We both look at each other and looking back in hindsight, i find this very strange... we just go back to sleep. We didn't run to our parents, we didn't stay up and talk about it in length, i just turned off the light and went back to my side of the room got in bed as if nothing happened.

the next morning, it took me a couple of hours before the memory of what happened to us came back to me. I ran to find my sister and not trying to "lead the witness" i asked her if anything strange happened last night, and she like me had to think about it and then it all came back to her, exactly like i remember it, exactly like the descriptions i had scribbled in the dark the night before.

it never happened again, but other strange phenomenon continued to happened to me way into my adulthood, but the portal in my shared bedroom was the only one in which i had a witness and someone to corroborate my story. Sorry for the length, hope you enjoyed my little true tale.

Recent strange phenomenon:

I had a dream of my dead grandfather. He seemed to be a presence in the hallway of his house and had to will himself to become a human form. He looked about 45, younger than I can remember him, and was wearing dark rinse jeans, a white t-shirt and blue collar worker coat. He looked at me in a way that made me know that I could ask him anything. I asked him, "Is my mom dying?" She was his favourite kid. He looked serious and opened a door down the hall. It bothered me and I woke up.

My mom, a 63 year-old in decent health, came over and I mentioned the dream. She said she dreamed of him the week before. I asked how old he looked, where he was, what he was wearing....it all matched. She said he gave her the same look and she asked, "Where are we going?" She said he had keys and they were heading somewhere.

This is two weeks ago. Now I'm scared she's going to end up sick or dead. I don't know why I chose to ask him about my mom, there is no provocation.

I've also experienced footsteps on the stairs rather like r31

I was about three years old and playing with blocks on the kitchen floor while my grandmother finished doing the dishes. It was about seven in the evening and probably late autumn.

In the corner of the kitchen was the door to the cellar.

We heard very heavy footsteps come up the wooden stairs from the cellar. They were slow, steady steps and, when they reached the door, the knob rattled. The door, fortunately, was locked from the kitchen. The only other access to the cellar was a door in the garden, but that also locked from the inside.

My grandmother looked in the cellar in the morning and said nothing was disturbed.

After that, we didn't talk about the incident ever again. Being an impressionable child, I somehow connected the scary footsteps with what I'd been doing. I would never play with those blocks in the kitchen or sit in the same spot on the floor again.

[quote] In the center of the bedroom the ceiling had disappeared and i was looking through a giant portal (roughly 10 feet in diameter) and at the other end of the portal was a star filled night sky something you'd see in a astronomy photograph.

In other words, your bedroom ceiling presented its hole to you.

[bold]Boo![/bold]

R53, you were just going to confront this male intruder in your house fearlessly? Yell "Hey!" at him, charge in there with full force? Who are you, the Incredible Hulk?

OP's story is examined here:

It was also the basis for a great SUSPENSE radio mystery by John Dickson Carr called "Cabin B13"

Another dumb DUMBvida thread.

Let's have some Saturday night scary stories.

Not scary, but true: I had three grandfathers (due to divorce and remarriage) and was least close to my dad's father. When I was in my early 20s he moved in with my parents (he was in his 70s and in OK health, not ailing).

One Saturday night I had a vivid dream in which he appeared and said "Just wanted to tell you so long," and disappeared. I felt fine about it in the dream, even though I knew he had just died. I didn't dislike him at all, but we weren't close and I'd never dreamed about him before or since.

The next morning the phone rang and I picked it up. It was my dad, and I said "Grandpa died last night, didn't he?"

He had.

I have never had any kind of scary thing happen to me and I don't believe in ghosts or spirits..

But the only thing I know of is something my aunt told me and I believe her because I never knew her to tell fanciful or exaggerated stories.

During the night of the day when my grandfather's body was being prepared for the wake by the mortician my aunt had a dream where my grandfather was complaining that his feet hurt.

My aunt told my grandmother and they agreed that was a strange dream to have when somebody had just died.

Then my grandmother was told by I assume it was the funeral parlor that the shoes they were given for the body were tight and had to be forced on my grandfather's feet.

My grandmother immediately went out to buy larger shoes to replace the small ones.

As I said I don't believe in spirits but that kind of freaked me out.

That is freaky r83. Imagine if your grandpa said his butt hurt....

The Jeebus Cheeto she found in the seat of her car has prompted her to go on.

Bumping this for the month O' Hall-o-weeeeeeeeeeennn

R16 You might like this..

Incoming conspiracys..

Bump

R85 That cheeto does really look like Jesus.

DIE A PAINFUL DEATH BUMP TROLL. WORSE THAN HITLER AND ELLEN DEGENERES

DIE A PAINFUL DEATH BUMP TROLL. WORSE THAN HITLER AND ELLEN DEGENERES

DIE A PAINFUL DEATH BUMP TROLL. WORSE THAN HITLER AND ELLEN DEGENERES

DIE A PAINFUL DEATH BUMP TROLL. WORSE THAN HITLER AND ELLEN DEGENERES

DIE A PAINFUL DEATH BUMP TROLL. WORSE THAN HITLER AND ELLEN DEGENERES