This is going to be a little long.



His name was Bobby.

Back in 1985 I joined my local volunteer fire department. One of our “old timers” had a 2-story house that he had renovated into 2 apartments several years earlier. On the first floor was a member of our department and close friend who I ended up working with for about 15 years before moving to Florida. On the second floor was another member of the fire department, his wife and infant daughter (our God Daughter) who were also very close friends.



As the story goes… one day our friends heard their infant daughter (18-24 months old at the most) talking in her bedroom. Her mother went in to find her sitting on the floor in front of an open closet door. She asked, “who are you talking to?” Her daughter said Bobby. Her mom thought that was cute and that she had an imaginary friend. However, after that day things started to get a little strange.



One day the husband came home from work and put his car keys down on the counter. When he went back to get them, they were gone. They tore the apartment apart and couldn’t find them. A few days later they found them sitting on the kitchen table.

The next thing to go missing was his business check book. Again, they tore the apartment apart looking for it, including flipping the couch over with no luck. Several weeks later the checkbook appeared on the kitchen table.

Next thing to go missing was a piece of jewelry, and after an exhausted search they were not found. Then one day the jewelry reappeared again. Meanwhile, all this time the daughter was still having conversations with and playing with “Bobby”.


A personal incident, the wife was taking a bath and had fallen asleep in the tub. At some point she was startled awake by a washcloth slapping her in the face. She had slipped down into the tub, and her face was very close to going under the water. There was no body in the bathroom or at home apart from the baby who was sleeping.



This went on for about a year.

One day the daughter came running out of the bedroom hysterically crying holding her hand. Our friend asked what happened and her comment was “Bobby tried to bite me”.
Our friend (the wife) went into the daughter's bedroom and stood in front of the open closet and proceeded to yell at Bobby for trying to bite her daughter and told him that he “needed to go”.



They never heard from Bobby again and never had anything else disappear.



This story goes back about 33 years and to the best of my recollection of how things happened.

And my other friend who lived on the first floor never had any encounters similar that we are aware.

Yesterday I was going to repair my daughter’s Oster blender. I had ordered a replacement drive biscuit but wanted to reuse the original one, thinking it just loosened off threaded motor shaft. Where was it? It was not between the base and the liquid container. I looked all around the garage. I had put a doormat on top of the freezer to make a work table of sorts, and started the repair work. Nothing was on the door mat but what I placed there. Base housing, motor subassembly, and liquid container.

Went to the mailbox to get the amazon package with the replacement. Walked back. Started to put the new parts together. And right there on the doormat was the old part. How did it get there?

Weird. And the old part would not thread back on the motor shaft so I needed the new. But I looked for a good fifteen minutes before going to the mailbox. Where was it?

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Originally posted by pace40:

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Originally posted by 12131:

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Originally posted by pace40:
Gettysburg...
nuff said.

That’s not “nuff”. Tell us more.

Go there. Get away from the tourists. Sit down. Be quiet, look and listen. Back side close to Lot #3 down by the creek is best (or worst depending on your point of view).

Be warned, in summer, ticks are pretty bad and skeeters will carry you away at dawn and dusk. Winter is better. It's quieter but it's harder to hide from the rangers. The stains are easier to see seeping up and disappearing in the snow though.

my brother from another mother is a reenactor, and his group does very authentic representations, as in all period type, hand made or made on period equipment uniforms, etc etc,

his small group was at Gettysburg, and got to camp on the grounds, with permission of the NPS,

he said it was a bit spooky,
no apparitions etc but a very odd feeling you were not alone,



my grandfather and father were carpenters for a bit, taught me a thing or 2, but Granpa died in the early 80's

wife and I got married, bought a house in 86 with an upstairs unfinished,
did most of the work myself, and not long after we had moved into the upstairs (bedroom, bathroom and Den) I was home alone, walked from the den, to the bedroom (about a 8 foot hallway, where the steps go down ) and as I passed the steps, I saw grandpa looking up from the bottom step,

saw him smiled, thought there is Grandpa, and never missed a step,

then froze, when my pea brain relized he had been dead about 6 yrs,,,

took a moment to get the nerve to step back, but he was gone

I worked in a very old prison, built in 1934. We were undergoing a mission change, the female convicts shipped out and male shipped in. Myself and an another officer were assigned the midnight to eight shift by ourselves for two weeks, just to walk thru occasionally and monitor fire alarms. On the second night the officer called me on the radio and asked me to come to Bluegrass Unit. I went and he directed me to the first floor tv room. As we approached we saw it had about 35 male inmates in it, watching tv and making the normal convict racket. We saw and smelled cigarette smoke, BUT THE PRISON HAD NO INMATES IN IT!

Ed asked me what I wanted to do. I suggested we depart rapidly for the office and drink coffee. We did.

I had a number of similar experiences at this prison.

My wife was given a gift of four gourmet donuts by a friend for her birthday. She ate one and I ate two, and the last one was, of course, for her.

That donut disappeared over night. It was there, and then it was not.

There's only one explanation- yep, ghosts.

Thieving bastards.

When I was in high school one of my friends moved from a house near me in town to a new house just outside of town. Shortly after they moved in I was invited over for a bonfire. While seated around the fire, my friends dad proceeds to tell the story of how they got a great deal on the house because the old guy who lived there alone had been found burned up in a pile of brush that he had been burning and tending..."I guess he just fell into the fire" he said. I thought it was a creepy story but I never thought much of it after that night.

Over the years I had been over for lots of bonfires, but never spent the night, until a year or so after college when I had been back in town. It got pretty late and my friends parents said I could crash on the couch in the basement. My friends room was the only finished part of the basement. The couch I had been assigned was just kind of in the middle of the basement on a rug. There was a TV on a stand and a computer on a folding table, but the rest of the basement was wide open.

I was sleeping on the couch when I woke up sometime during the night and looked across the basement. I CLEARLY saw a flaming figure pacing back and forth by the furnace. I froze in fear not believing what I was seeing. The figure stopped pacing and turned and looked at me for a second. The next thing I knew the figure started running at me at a full sprint. The only thing I had time to do was close my eyes. All of a sudden I felt a strong pressure on my body and even though my eyes were closed, the only thing I could see was flames, like I was inside of a fire. I tried to yell, but nothing came out and my body was completely paralyzed. After about 15 seconds the flames I was seeing went away and I could move again.

After I regained my composure, I sat up for a while trying to figure out what had just happened. I convinced myself that I must've been dreaming and tried to go back to sleep.

I mentioned the strange incident to my friend's dad the next morning at breakfast, telling him I wasn't sure if it had been real or not. I remember him looking at me and just saying "Yeah, that kind of stuff happens around here every so often."

That was the first and last night I ever stayed in that house.

I live in a house that is well over 100 years old, perhaps from early records it may be as much as 136 years old. At first it was built as a school house for black children, then converted into a home, later it became a "shot house" (to illegally buy liquor by the drink), and then it was a poker house, and then back to being a residence again.

I have found evidence making me believe there was a shootout at the house in the distant past, that involved some foreign military rifle, and a Colt 1911 (not an A1). When I moved in 24 years ago strange things immediately started happening, and after I figured out there was some pattern I started keeping a hand written record. There were many instances, too many to detail here. Several but not all involved items showing up where there was no reason for them to be. Since I was the only one living in the house, and I do not sleep walk, I could not come up logical explanations.

Once I actually received a minor injury that resulted in some bleeding, and at that point I decided it was time to do something. I verbally did a one way communication with what I believed to be some other entity in the house, told them I suspected this used to be their house, but it was my house now, that I was not going any where, that I was not trying to disrespect them, that we could both be here at the same time, etc. That pretty much ended it, and I have not had any problems since. I don't care what anyone thinks about this, it was just something I thought needed to be done to address the situation. Maybe if I have time later can give you some specifics.