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GB Jack

Ghosts, what is the deal

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GB Jack

My wife has had one major one and so have I, for the sake of time, I'll tell hers as it's much shorter. We were staying New Orleans for a work meeting in without a shadow of a doubt the nicest hotel I've ever stayed at in the United States at the time, it was called the Windsor court. It is a Forbes magazine 4 star award winner , if that gives you any indication.

I was at meeting during the day and she was free to tour the city with some friends and significant others that were also down there.

I came back to the room around 4:30 pm. To find my wife getting ready for our dinner reservations with customers that evening.

She wasn't quite her normal jovial self when I entered the suite. I coukd tell something was off. I said how was your day, she said fine, and said she was excited for dinner.

I popped off my shoes and started watching television about " things to do in New Orleans"  they had mentioned something about a " haunted New Orleans tour" I said that's interesting, had never heard of such a thing.

She replied " we don't need to go on a tour for that" we don't even need to leave the hotel",

I looked at her with a puzzling look, when she reluctantly confided in me that while getting ready in the bathroom mirror. She had looked up from doing some makeup or hair thing, and in the mirror , behind her, was an elderly African American man. She guessed he was between 60-75 years old, she described every detail of his face, down to his unkept hair, it was startling how detailed her description was.

I just stood their listening in amazement, both from the actual episode, and also how immensely calm she was about the whole thing.

I would have absolutely freaked out. She said at no time did she ever feel threatened after she realized what it was. Nor did he appear anytime else during the trip. I was already to switch suites, but she said said there was no need to.

I talked to the concierge very privately as I wasn't sure how to bring up " such a thing" and he stopped me mid sentence, and said if you'd like us to put you in another room or on a different floor sir , we'd be happy too.

This gave credence to my wife's story in a way that he wasn't at the least bit surprised at my question.

My wife doesn't tell people about this story, and would be irate if she knew I put it on here.

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PartridgeCartridge

I do not believe in ghosts. I don't believe in ghosts because I have never experienced anything in my 57 years on earth that would suggest they exist. I also dont believe in aliens or UFO's or Bigfoot for the same reason. Others experiences may differ.

And yet you probably believe in some sort of God, the same phenomenon that relies on the simple concept of Faith, which basically means you believe in something even though you have no empirical evidence to back it up.

God...Ghosts... same concept, different critter.

And yes, I have seen some things I can't explain...

I'm still not a believer....in either critter.

Read Anna's Covert, from a post a while back....

Anna's Covert:

Part of our grouse hunting routine every year is the acquisition of new coverts as they don’t seem to last forever. We are thoroughly satisfied if we are able to secure just one new spot every weekend.

We had driven past an old Victorian house several times and had always thought that the place looked grousey. It sat at the base of a hill, had a pond in the back and sloped up through a huge tract of very dense thorn apple and dogwood. Many places on that hill looked almost too thick to hunt.

We pulled into the long dirt driveway that led up to the house. It was, in a former time, a beautiful specimen of a large Victorian farmhouse. Classic Catskill architecture.  As we got closer, the house seemed to be vacant.

“Darn” I thought. We always make it a point to get permission and the place looked like a grouse factory.

Then I caught that tell tale movement in one of the side windows. And it looked like a woman was washing the windows.

We walked up to the side of the house to the window, took our hats off as a courtesy and she smiled at us.

She tried to pull the window up but it was one of those old wooden widows that was probably painted shut long ago

.

And so our exchange took place between the glass.

We introduced ourselves and she told us her name was Anna.

I was really taken back by her beauty. She had long black hair, creamy skin and an infectious smile. I thought I noticed another little head next to her bobbing at window sill height . Must be one of her kids, I thought.

“Would you be so kind as to allow us to chase the partridge on your  hill?” I asked

She smiled and nodded and again I was taken back by her pure ethereal beauty. Her husband is a very lucky man I thought.

We said thanks and asked her if she would like a bird or two and through the glass she said, “No thank you, You are welcome any time, good luck and be careful around the pond”

We smiled back, said thanks and turned to the trucks to get the dogs.

My god she was a beautiful woman.

We collared up the dogs and skirted the pond to make our way up the hill. The pond was very still and the water was black as the night. There was a very old rusty chain swing set hanging from an ancient willow on the bank.  

We were into a bird almost immediately and then another. As we suspected, the cover was so thick that we could only hunt the edges and we bumped quite a few others without ever seeing them. That hill held a lot of grouse and we also managed to take three woodcock as well by the time we peaked out.

“Hey guys check this out” I heard Joe say.

“I gotta get through this cover, give me sec.” I replied.

I could hear Mike and Pat also fighting their way towards us, the telltale sounds of Hawthorn bushes tugging at their brush clothes.

We emerged from the tangle almost simultaneously and Joe was looking down at an old  graveyard. We have happened onto several of these in the Catskills and it seems as though they were a common custom practice since the early settlers had arrived.

Some of the old plots were the final resting spots for the indentured servants of the 1700’s and early 1800’s.

These were the hardy souls that built a vast majority of the stone rows as they tried to buy their freedom back The ones that we now use as our little grouse hunting highways.

Other plots, as indicated by more refined headstones and grave markers, were the final resting places of the actual family members that owned those old large farms that dot the Catskill countryside.

This site looked like it was a family site as evidenced by newer and more embellished grave markers. There were two larger stones and one smaller stone. Most likely a child’s grave.

Mike snapped a few pictures and we decided to hunt our way back down through the tangle, back to the trucks. It was close to lunch and we were all getting hungry.

We rounded the pond and went up to the house to thank Anna for the hunt but apparently no one was home.

Too bad, I remember thinking, I really wanted to see that beautiful woman one more time. There was just something about her.

We returned to the Catskills two weeks later and after hitting the usual spots, we decided over a diner breakfast that we should give Anna’s place another try.

So we headed to Anna’s, knocked on the door and windows, realized that no one was home and decided, that since she had told the four of us that we were welcome any time, that we would hunt. We did leave a bottle of Merlot on the front porch and I stuck a tail feather in the label. Kind of a calling card and a thank you gesture, so to speak.

That hillside was a wood cock hunters dream that afternoon. None of us shot a partridge, but each of us shot several woodcock.

Back at the trucks we had all the woodcock on the tailgate and we were uncollaring the dogs when we heard a big diesel pickup come barreling down the drive way .

A very large older man stepped out and we could tell he was upset.

“What are you boys doing here?” He demanded.

“We were hunting partridge on that back hill.” Joe replied

“And just who the hell said you could do that?’ his tone was getting shorter.

I thought, perhaps, that he may be Anna’s husband.

I asked, “Are you Anna’s Husband?”

Have you ever seen a person’s complexion go from a normal tone to an ashen, cadaver like grey? I thought the guy was going to pass out at that very moment and I think our group response was,

“Hey, are you OK buddy?”

“Get in your trucks and meet me down by the road” he say quietly and hopped back in his truck.

And we did as he asked. We were a little nervous thinking that he was going to lecture us or maybe call the cops for trespassing, hell we didn’t know what to think.

He was sitting on his tailgate when we made it out by the road.

His attitude was different and he said “Now, I want you boys to tell me what happened here.”

We were still a little confused and I said “Look, we asked for permission and Anna said we could hunt here, If this is going to be a problem, we’ll just leave, no big deal”

“Let me explain something to you” he replied.  “Anna don’t own this place, I do, and I have been trying to sell it for twenty years. I own one of the largest Real Estate brokerages in the Catskills. I live around here and everybody knows who I am.”

“What’s your point mister? Do you want us to leave?” I asked.

“No son,”  he said, “But I want you to listen to me for a minute”…..and he gathered his thoughts and started,

“ William Kirby owned this farm last. It was handed down to him through the ages. Kirby’s always owned it. He had a son named Silas and his wife was Annette……Silas was playing on the swing by the pond and ended up in the water. Annette tried to save him and they both drowned. Old Bill was so distraught by the whole thing that he stuck an old double barrel shotgun in his mouth. They were laid to rest on the top of the hill behind the place. ….Now I want you boys to chew on that for a second”

“Tell you something else” he added, “I had this farm through six closings and have yet to be able to sell it. Its always something that makes ‘em back out at the last minute and I think you boys have an idea of just what that thing is.”

Epilogue:

I have been wanting to share this with just the right audience. I have never written of these event and you, my fellow hunters, are the first to read it.

I think I can safely say that every member of my party had unexplainable but very significant life event at that meeting. We are still unable, as adults, to fully grasp what we all shared.

I am an articulate, educated man. I, am also, by nature, a person convinced only by empirical evidence. I am not superstitious. My three hunting companions are also very bright, educated men.

I believe all humans witness strange things in their lives and I think hunters, especially, have also seen their share of things that “go bump in the night.”

As it turns out, our realtor was one of the wealthiest men in the region and was well respected in his field. We formed, through our common bizarre experience, a bond with this gentleman and got to know him better. It is an invaluable relationship if you hunt grouse to befriend a realtor.

A little additional research on our behalf only reinforced the facts as he had explained them to us. Which, to this day, confuses us even more.

Mike’s digital photos of the grave site corroborate the evidence disturbingly.

This did not happen to just me. It happened in the very presence of four rational, free thinking adult men. It has obviously happened to several other equally rational people. We have since met another person touched by this.

It happened standing firmly on the ground where an old Victorian house still stands to this very day.

We have been tempted to return to that place. The realtor gave us permission. We never have. Our collective group thought at this time on the issue is that we should not tinker with something that we know or can explain nothing about.

We drive by it every year and I could swear that house stares back.

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Randy S

I don't know about ghosts, but.. many years ago when at work in a foundry, I had what I would describe as an overwhelming feeling of dread. I couldn't place it but I knew something was wrong.

I asked a co-worker if he felt anything and he didn't. My overall demeanor was such that when my foreman walked past he stopped to ask if I was okay. I just told him that something bad had happened to someone. He suggested that I call home, but I knew immediately that it wasn't family. I could just click their names in my head, and knew it wasn't one of them. After 20 minutes or so, it went away.

A few weeks later, an old girl friend called. We had been very serious but drifted apart when she went to college. She told me that a few weeks earlier she was in the hospital and her family thought she was going to die. Said once her health improved she knew she had to see me.

I was kinda proud of myself. Believed that I would never have to worry about a loved one's health because I would "just know". Then a sister in law laughed at me and said, "That wasn't you. It was her spirit touching you." Guess I'm not special after all, but even after 40 years remembering that feeling still gives me chills.

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Ben Hong

The following is not a ghost story per se, but it is mysteriously significant.

I was born in a village in southern China where I had a childhood friend of the same age who had a black birth mark over his heart. We kids ran around almost naked most of the time so all of us were aware of his mark, but none of us cared...until much later when my mother and I were discussing my old friends and playmates. That's when she revealed the story.

The boy's mother had miscarried her first pregnancy; and the second, a boy,  died at the age of 6 weeks. Eventually she got pregnant again and before the birth she consulted with the Buddhist monks at the local monastery and asked for advice and blessings. She was told to write a word on the left side of the baby's chest with the brush pen and black ink which the monks had provided. A baby, another boy, was born soon after and as soon he emerged, the mother wrote on his chest as instructed.

The infant survived for 3 months during which time he was loved deeply and gratefully by one and all. Alas he too died which left the family inconsolable. Thankfully, the woman got pregnant for a 4th time and a healthy boy was born with a very distinct and sharply defined birth mark over his heart. He survived, immigrated to Canada shortly after I did and had just passed away 4 years ago at the age 68, in western Canada.

The birth mark was the Chinese character for "return".

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Rex Hoppie
I do not believe in ghosts. I don't believe in ghosts because I have never experienced anything in my 57 years on earth that would suggest they exist. I also dont believe in aliens or UFO's or Bigfoot for the same reason. Others experiences may differ.

And yet you probably believe in some sort of God, the same phenomenon that relies on the simple concept of Faith, which basically means you believe in something even though you have no empirical evidence to back it up.

God...Ghosts... same concept, different critter.

And yes, I have seen some things I can't explain...

I'm still not a believer....in either critter.

Read Anna's Covert, from a post a while back....

Anna's Covert:

Part of our grouse hunting routine every year is the acquisition of new coverts as they don’t seem to last forever. We are thoroughly satisfied if we are able to secure just one new spot every weekend.

We had driven past an old Victorian house several times and had always thought that the place looked grousey. It sat at the base of a hill, had a pond in the back and sloped up through a huge tract of very dense thorn apple and dogwood. Many places on that hill looked almost too thick to hunt.

We pulled into the long dirt driveway that led up to the house. It was, in a former time, a beautiful specimen of a large Victorian farmhouse. Classic Catskill architecture.  As we got closer, the house seemed to be vacant.

“Darn” I thought. We always make it a point to get permission and the place looked like a grouse factory.

Then I caught that tell tale movement in one of the side windows. And it looked like a woman was washing the windows.

We walked up to the side of the house to the window, took our hats off as a courtesy and she smiled at us.

She tried to pull the window up but it was one of those old wooden widows that was probably painted shut long ago

.

And so our exchange took place between the glass.

We introduced ourselves and she told us her name was Anna.

I was really taken back by her beauty. She had long black hair, creamy skin and an infectious smile. I thought I noticed another little head next to her bobbing at window sill height . Must be one of her kids, I thought.

“Would you be so kind as to allow us to chase the partridge on your  hill?” I asked

She smiled and nodded and again I was taken back by her pure ethereal beauty. Her husband is a very lucky man I thought.

We said thanks and asked her if she would like a bird or two and through the glass she said, “No thank you, You are welcome any time, good luck and be careful around the pond”

We smiled back, said thanks and turned to the trucks to get the dogs.

My god she was a beautiful woman.

We collared up the dogs and skirted the pond to make our way up the hill. The pond was very still and the water was black as the night. There was a very old rusty chain swing set hanging from an ancient willow on the bank.  

We were into a bird almost immediately and then another. As we suspected, the cover was so thick that we could only hunt the edges and we bumped quite a few others without ever seeing them. That hill held a lot of grouse and we also managed to take three woodcock as well by the time we peaked out.

“Hey guys check this out” I heard Joe say.

“I gotta get through this cover, give me sec.” I replied.

I could hear Mike and Pat also fighting their way towards us, the telltale sounds of Hawthorn bushes tugging at their brush clothes.

We emerged from the tangle almost simultaneously and Joe was looking down at an old  graveyard. We have happened onto several of these in the Catskills and it seems as though they were a common custom practice since the early settlers had arrived.

Some of the old plots were the final resting spots for the indentured servants of the 1700’s and early 1800’s.

These were the hardy souls that built a vast majority of the stone rows as they tried to buy their freedom back The ones that we now use as our little grouse hunting highways.

Other plots, as indicated by more refined headstones and grave markers, were the final resting places of the actual family members that owned those old large farms that dot the Catskill countryside.

This site looked like it was a family site as evidenced by newer and more embellished grave markers. There were two larger stones and one smaller stone. Most likely a child’s grave.

Mike snapped a few pictures and we decided to hunt our way back down through the tangle, back to the trucks. It was close to lunch and we were all getting hungry.

We rounded the pond and went up to the house to thank Anna for the hunt but apparently no one was home.

Too bad, I remember thinking, I really wanted to see that beautiful woman one more time. There was just something about her.

We returned to the Catskills two weeks later and after hitting the usual spots, we decided over a diner breakfast that we should give Anna’s place another try.

So we headed to Anna’s, knocked on the door and windows, realized that no one was home and decided, that since she had told the four of us that we were welcome any time, that we would hunt. We did leave a bottle of Merlot on the front porch and I stuck a tail feather in the label. Kind of a calling card and a thank you gesture, so to speak.

That hillside was a wood cock hunters dream that afternoon. None of us shot a partridge, but each of us shot several woodcock.

Back at the trucks we had all the woodcock on the tailgate and we were uncollaring the dogs when we heard a big diesel pickup come barreling down the drive way .

A very large older man stepped out and we could tell he was upset.

“What are you boys doing here?” He demanded.

“We were hunting partridge on that back hill.” Joe replied

“And just who the hell said you could do that?’ his tone was getting shorter.

I thought, perhaps, that he may be Anna’s husband.

I asked, “Are you Anna’s Husband?”

Have you ever seen a person’s complexion go from a normal tone to an ashen, cadaver like grey? I thought the guy was going to pass out at that very moment and I think our group response was,

“Hey, are you OK buddy?”

“Get in your trucks and meet me down by the road” he say quietly and hopped back in his truck.

And we did as he asked. We were a little nervous thinking that he was going to lecture us or maybe call the cops for trespassing, hell we didn’t know what to think.

He was sitting on his tailgate when we made it out by the road.

His attitude was different and he said “Now, I want you boys to tell me what happened here.”

We were still a little confused and I said “Look, we asked for permission and Anna said we could hunt here, If this is going to be a problem, we’ll just leave, no big deal”

“Let me explain something to you” he replied.  “Anna don’t own this place, I do, and I have been trying to sell it for twenty years. I own one of the largest Real Estate brokerages in the Catskills. I live around here and everybody knows who I am.”

“What’s your point mister? Do you want us to leave?” I asked.

“No son,”  he said, “But I want you to listen to me for a minute”…..and he gathered his thoughts and started,

“ William Kirby owned this farm last. It was handed down to him through the ages. Kirby’s always owned it. He had a son named Silas and his wife was Annette……Silas was playing on the swing by the pond and ended up in the water. Annette tried to save him and they both drowned. Old Bill was so distraught by the whole thing that he stuck an old double barrel shotgun in his mouth. They were laid to rest on the top of the hill behind the place. ….Now I want you boys to chew on that for a second”

“Tell you something else” he added, “I had this farm through six closings and have yet to be able to sell it. Its always something that makes ‘em back out at the last minute and I think you boys have an idea of just what that thing is.”

Epilogue:

I have been wanting to share this with just the right audience. I have never written of these event and you, my fellow hunters, are the first to read it.

I think I can safely say that every member of my party had unexplainable but very significant life event at that meeting. We are still unable, as adults, to fully grasp what we all shared.

I am an articulate, educated man. I, am also, by nature, a person convinced only by empirical evidence. I am not superstitious. My three hunting companions are also very bright, educated men.

I believe all humans witness strange things in their lives and I think hunters, especially, have also seen their share of things that “go bump in the night.”

As it turns out, our realtor was one of the wealthiest men in the region and was well respected in his field. We formed, through our common bizarre experience, a bond with this gentleman and got to know him better. It is an invaluable relationship if you hunt grouse to befriend a realtor.

A little additional research on our behalf only reinforced the facts as he had explained them to us. Which, to this day, confuses us even more.

Mike’s digital photos of the grave site corroborate the evidence disturbingly.

This did not happen to just me. It happened in the very presence of four rational, free thinking adult men. It has obviously happened to several other equally rational people. We have since met another person touched by this.

It happened standing firmly on the ground where an old Victorian house still stands to this very day.

We have been tempted to return to that place. The realtor gave us permission. We never have. Our collective group thought at this time on the issue is that we should not tinker with something that we know or can explain nothing about.

We drive by it every year and I could swear that house stares back.

So Dave.

What happened to the bottle of merlot?

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GB Jack

Ben ,

That's exactly what I'm referring to, trying to make sense of it all

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Dakota Dogman

Okay, Sunday afternoon & I've got a bit of time... so concerning supernatural beings... Before I begin, better beg forgiveness for getting wordy... obviously I have had to think / deal about this a good bit.

1st - in general "Christian" (as in most denominations would be okay with most of it; not a baptist or catholic thing...)

Ben is right, that the Christians do hold to a 3 part God, with one "person" of the 3 (normally the last mentioned) being the Spirit.  (Ghost was an older translation, but not normally the most preferred.)

2nd, Christians will hold to people being made up of both material (physical) and non-material substance.  Some hold to the soul & spirit being one thing, others to them being 2 distinct things.   I kinda lean towards people being made up of the 3 parts; body, soul & spirit.

The normal understanding is that death = separation; ie. body from soul & spirit.  Most will say that soul / spirit go pretty much straight away to a destination (Baptist types - heaven & hell; Catholic types add purgatory as an option.) That means most theologies do not leave room for disembodied human spirits floating around earth "haunting" the place.

That said there are Biblical examples of known human spirits being sent back to earth, but they are very rare (I'm coming up with 2)...

Rare enough to suggest that they are the unusual exception and not a norm.

3) Bible thumpers like me also believe in the angelic hosts... angels, demons, that sort of thing. I believe that the majority of the things we experience in the supernatural realm fit into this spot.  Angels, being messengers of God, and demons being fallen angels with the intended purpose of keeping peoples minds / eyes off of God.

---------

Personal experience with supernatural.

As a couple have mentioned, some have a more natural awareness of what is going on than others.  I do not claim to be one who has a special sense or anything.

2 times I have been there in a hospital when someone passes away.  1 was a baby 1 hour old, the other a 60 year old man.  Each time when the final moment there was ... Well I was holding the baby (not my own) when he died. I had never been in this situation before & they don't teach you about it in Baptist seminary.  One minute he was there, then there was a quivering in the atmosphere (boy the wording just does not describe it well), a felt un-breeze going past my face, and he was gone.  No heart beat, nothing.  (It was similar with the older man, except I wasn't holding him...  :O )

As to the angel thing.  I don't know if I have ever met an angel (other than my wife & her grandma Emily  :D ).  I do know though that I have dealt with demons several times.  I will not glorify it with lot of prose.  I hope to never have to do it again, but am not afraid of it if it must happen.  Count it up there with a colonoscopy.  It may be necessary, even for good, but I don't have to look forward to it or enjoy it. It is my own personal belief / experience that the majority of what people attribute to disembodied human spirits are not what they claim to be.

Enough to too much for now.

God Bless,

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Larry Brown

The great magician Houdini wanted very badly to believe in spirits.  He happened to live during a period when there was significant interest in spirits and spiritualism, especially post-WWI, when many people were trying to contact loved ones who'd either died in the war or the influenza plague that followed.  Because of his experience as an illusionist, Houdini was able to "debunk" every medium to whom he was ever exposed.  He also told his wife that if there were any way to return, he would do so and contact her--either on the anniversary of his death or his birthday, don't remember which.  He never did.

That being said, I'm open to belief.  The only really strange experience I ever had involved a Ouija board when I was in college.  I was one of the two people with my fingers on the indicator.  At one point, after we'd played around for awhile, something happened.  It began spelling words so quickly that a 3rd person had to copy them down.  All perfectly coherent, and since I was one of the people involved, I'm 99% sure it wasn't a fake.  The result was a prediction of a war in Europe.  Spirit must have been having a bad day, because it didn't happen.  But something was making that indicator fly all over the board like nothing I've ever seen.

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charlo slim
Every ghost I've ever seen has been invisible.

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Virgil Kane

Dakota Dogman makes a good point about evil and good spirits. There was only one time I actually saw something, a black shadow in a dark house at night when in a house by myself. Not a person but more of an entity with no shape, no features just a shadow that went by me at my brothers house within mere feet of where I sat while working in a lit room when I was there all alone. My brother died within that week after seeing this "thing".

To set the stage so to speak this is a house where the following had happened over the years. As a child I always felt strange, like I wasn't suppose to be there. Always felt creeped out when I was there by myself or in another part of the house when others were in a different room. Kind of like the feeling one gets when they think they are being watched.

My Mother died in this house when I was young and the usual was to wake the person for 2 days and the burial was on the 3rd day. The night before my Mothers burial and well after my brother and I who shared a room had gone to bed after the wake the light turned on in the room. Scared the crap out of me because there was nobody there, my Dad was asleep in the other room and came running to our screams! My Dad being the believer that he was said it was my Mom coming to check on her boys one last time and we had nothing to fear because our Mother would never hurt us.

My Father died shortly after my Mother died, in the same house. We (my brother and I) inherited the house and my brother lived in it. Not a lot but on occasion things would happen like lights turning on by themselves, sounds and just an uneasy feeling. A blender turned on one night as my brother and I returned home and opened the door after being out for the night together. We were in our twenties and my brother being a police officer drew his gun and ran through the house saying he thought he saw somebody but there was nobody in the house after he and I searched it. I moved in with him shortly after my divorce. I had been married for 7 years before and never once had that creepy feeling of being watched until I moved back into that house. Which leads me back to the story of me seeing a "thing" go by the doorway where I worked late one night when my brother was out shopping. I too grabbed a gun and followed it to where I had thought it went. I first thought it was my brother returning and called out to him joking that he was back so soon because he was a cheap SOB and didn't want to spend his hard earned money. I called out to him but got no response. Being my brother was a LEO and knowing he had dealt with some nasty people I thought someone had entered when he had left. It happened fast but I saw this "thing" go down the hall from me and enter my brothers bedroom. The rest of the house was completely dark except the room I was in and after grabbing a 45 I went down the hall flipping lights on as I went and jumped into the room figuring to surprise whomever this was. There was nobody there in my brothers bedroom. The same bedroom that years before  my Mother and Father used. Every hair on my neck was standing straight up not knowing what I had seen. Days later my brother died in that bedroom at the age of 32.

After his death I had a hard time being in that house. Once again that childhood feeling of dread and being someplace that someone didn't want me to be was hard to fight, once again feeling of being watched and by something that was not friendly but total evil. I worked in that house during the day but absolutely refused to be in it anywhere near dark. To add to this, my brother got married 7 weeks before his death. His bride stayed in that house until she ended up being locked up in a phyc at the local hospital after his death. She committed suicide several years after this.

Ok that was the strangest one but there were others too. Like me being by myself when my wife and kids were out of town. My loyal and fearless 95 pound Treeing Walker laying at my feet as I watched TV when all of a sudden the dog jumped to his feel with his lips curled up and growing like I had never heard him growl as he looked behind where I sat. The dog snarled and growled but in an uncharacteristic way would not move an inch, just stood there and growled. I looked behind where I sat as I jumped up but there was nobody there and when told to heel the usually obedient dog just stood there growling. After a few moments he stopped but still refused to heel and follow me into the rest of the hose. Strange!

There were other times to when strange thing happened. There were times when I should have been scared out of my shoes but never had any fear. Kind of like I had a guardian angle looking out for me and somehow I could scents this subconsciously. And other times where something made me feel like I was wasn't wanted, like in that house where my family died, an uneasy feeling of dead and evil.

So do I believe in ghosts? If you mean seeing images of people with civil war uniforms on or flowing dresses then NO I don't. I don't believe inanimate objects like clothing would make the transition from earth to whatever their dimension would be called. But do I believe in spirits of good and spirits of demons ? I would have to say I have experienced enough to say there is evil around us and I for one don't want any part of it.

Am I crazy, could be. Am I more in tune with these things than other people? That could be too but I don't have the answer to that. There are many more things I have experienced that I don't have answers for either, I just chalk it up as ghost if that's what we choose to call them.

Virgil

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GB Jack

Virgil, Dakota dogman

Absolutely fascinating,

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strato-caster

As an aside:

A childhood friend of mine since I was in 5th Grade became a priest and later married my wife and I and three years later baptized my daughter soon after she was born. Sadly, he passed away several years ago at the age of 46.

One time I asked him about God and Satan, heaven and hell, good and evil. "How do you explain the unseen, the intangible, the non verifiable?

"Easy", he said. "No one has ever seen the wind, yet we know it exists. We see the EFFECTS of it everyday- clouds moving across the sky, ripples travelling across the surface of water, branches bending and breaking from its force. Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it doesn't exist. So it is with God."

I have always liked that explanation...

I believe the same is true of the spirit world. While I may not be in tune to it, I have known several intelligent, trustworthy, and otherwise credible individuals and family members who have had encounters such as those mentioned here and I have no real reason to doubt them.

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ThreeDogs

This should be a good thread. Looking forward to it. Not sure if I believe in Ghost's or not but I respect others beliefs. P.C. Anna's covert is always a good read. I have shared it with others around my office its a great tale and should be printed in a hunting magazine.

Here is my ghost story,

As a younger man I worked as a Elk hunting guide on private property in Utah. One day in a canyon near price Utah I came across some small caves near a ridge top. I went inside one and found some small Indian relics. Along with some baskets and an elk antler base that had been sharpened on one end I assumed it was a digging instrument. I also found some bones that I ssumed were sheep bones. The property owners were sheep men. The cave had been taken over by a bobcat and he was using it as his toilet and scraping post. He had unearthed/partially destroyed some things while digging around.

I was on private property and so I kept the elk antler and a couple arrow heads and a couple of the bones.

I got bored and new the boss would be bugged with my long absence so I headed out of the cave. When I got out there were several Ravens circling above me very close. Heres the weird thing they followed me as I walked back to the 4 wheeler a couple hundred yards and then followed me for a half mile or so as I rode down the trail. They were very close like 15-20 yards. Ravens are usually extremely touchy birds very wary. I fired off several rounds with my .22 pistol and they went away.

I got back to the cabin where we were staying. That evening I showed one of our clients the elk antler and bones he was a physician back east and explained to me that the bones were human arm bones....I told him about the Ravens and he got a little freaked out. Later that night the owner of the cabin showed up and the client told him what I had found about the Ravens the bones etc. He was a big mouth...

The owner of the cabin lost it, he was furious at me for bringing those things to his Cabin. He told me I must return them or I would bring a curse upon his cabin. He was stone cold serious. I told him to chill out it was 10 o'clock at night and no way was I taking them back I would return them in the morning. He could not be appeased I was only 17 he was 50 and pissed. He told me he wouldn't let me back in his cabin until I took them back. I told him he had watched Jerimiah Johnson to many times...We leased the hunting rights from him and I didn't want to make him any more angry.

So at 10 o'clock at night I climbed on my wheeler and drover the 3 miles back to the cave and by flash light rebuired the bones in the cave. Let me tell you I was shaking like a leaf. I was so young and it was about the scariest thing I have ever done. Nothing ever happened. I still have the elk antler and look at it from time to time. It is a fascinating artifact.

I showed it to my archeology professor at the university a few years ago and he explained it was not a digging tool but a paint crusher, and a very ceremonial piece. He said the university would pay me for it and put it in their collection. I said no.

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max2

I can't say ghost's but have had a couple times what I would call a sign. When my first shorthair was diagnosed with  cancer. Bare in mind  I have had dogs my entire life and know the hurt that comes when it is time to let them go. But my first gun dog ! Wooooo that stung ! In any case he had been not himself a couple days to perhaps a week. Off to the vet we go. Cancer was the furthest thing from my mind. This day the vet was like " he has cancer what do you want to do? " I didn't see it coming and could not answer . We could start him on drugs the vet replied. What will be his quality of life I replied ? Vet gave him a  shot and said take him home and think about it. Off we go . I drive home his head in my lap across the front bench  seat of our truck he lay. My mind going a hundred different direction. A beautiful spring day. I looked to the heavens and asked god with tears in my eyes . Why? ?  We got home and backed the truck in . Jax laid there eyes barely open. Within a second or two a grouse landed directly in front of the truck and walked around. This went on for a long time.

I don't remember what happened next. A week later Jax was gone.

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Wisconsin

In 1958 my parents brought home a black lab puppy named Raven. She turned out to be a wonderful member of our family. I trace my love of the outdoors, gun dogs and hunting back to her presence in my life.

I remember the day she died like it was yesterday. The day after, my father heard a noise in the basement stairway. He opened the door and to his astonishment Raven's 6 foot leather leash - normally hanging limp on a hook - was swinging back and forth - just like it often did when she nudged it, waiting for her daily walks.

I believe,

Ken

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