Post by auntym on Sept 13, 2011 23:51:00 GMT -6
www.ghoststories.ws/the-story-i-can-t-tell.html
The Story I Can't Tell[/color]
A Personal Experience By Victoria
I was 11 years old when we moved to Ruckersville, Virginia, just me, my mom, and younger sister and brothers. We were looking for a home. When my mom finally found one, all we could think was, “Oh my God, we finally have a house.”
The house made us feel like we belonged there, like it was meant just for us as a family. And the house was right next to our landlord, who we didn't like; all she seemed to care about was cursing us and taking all our money. But she was a very strange old lady, and her husband was also strange.
After a couple of months of living there, my mom, my brother Matt and I were kind of scared of the house. My mom had heard someone try to break in, and when she looked there was no one there even though the doorknob was still moving. My brother had come running from the basement one day to tell us he’d heard noises of metal hitting together, and when he looked up, brass buckles fell out of nowhere. The basement was always scaring everyone; you couldn't go down there alone without being paranoid that someone was lingering in the darkness, watching you.
I had shared a room with my sister, with her bed on one side of the room and mine on the other. I always had the radio on at night because it helped me sleep.
One night I woke up from a dream: I was lying in my bed and I suddenly awoke to turn my radio off. A woman with super sharp nails grabbed my hand and ripped it off of my arm. When I woke from that nightmare, I couldn't go back to sleep for a while, so I just lay there and put my head under the covers. Minutes went by and it grew very cold; I started hearing a slight moaning noise, like a woman’s voice whispering.
Stupidly, I thought nothing if it, believing it was my radio. I had awoken and went to turn off the radio, but I thought of my dream and stopped myself, beginning to sweat. I was paranoid. I took my head out from beneath my covers and lay there, eyes closed. After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes and finally got up enough courage to turn off my radio.
I fell asleep for a couple if minutes and I woke ip to the moaning noises again and when I opened my eyes I saw her...
CONTINUE READING: www.ghoststories.ws/the-story-i-can-t-tell.html
The Story I Can't Tell[/color]
A Personal Experience By Victoria
I was 11 years old when we moved to Ruckersville, Virginia, just me, my mom, and younger sister and brothers. We were looking for a home. When my mom finally found one, all we could think was, “Oh my God, we finally have a house.”
The house made us feel like we belonged there, like it was meant just for us as a family. And the house was right next to our landlord, who we didn't like; all she seemed to care about was cursing us and taking all our money. But she was a very strange old lady, and her husband was also strange.
After a couple of months of living there, my mom, my brother Matt and I were kind of scared of the house. My mom had heard someone try to break in, and when she looked there was no one there even though the doorknob was still moving. My brother had come running from the basement one day to tell us he’d heard noises of metal hitting together, and when he looked up, brass buckles fell out of nowhere. The basement was always scaring everyone; you couldn't go down there alone without being paranoid that someone was lingering in the darkness, watching you.
I had shared a room with my sister, with her bed on one side of the room and mine on the other. I always had the radio on at night because it helped me sleep.
One night I woke up from a dream: I was lying in my bed and I suddenly awoke to turn my radio off. A woman with super sharp nails grabbed my hand and ripped it off of my arm. When I woke from that nightmare, I couldn't go back to sleep for a while, so I just lay there and put my head under the covers. Minutes went by and it grew very cold; I started hearing a slight moaning noise, like a woman’s voice whispering.
Stupidly, I thought nothing if it, believing it was my radio. I had awoken and went to turn off the radio, but I thought of my dream and stopped myself, beginning to sweat. I was paranoid. I took my head out from beneath my covers and lay there, eyes closed. After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes and finally got up enough courage to turn off my radio.
I fell asleep for a couple if minutes and I woke ip to the moaning noises again and when I opened my eyes I saw her...
CONTINUE READING: www.ghoststories.ws/the-story-i-can-t-tell.html