South Carolina Ghosts, The Hound Of Goshen
Have you ever heard this ghost story about a ghost dog.
Monday, October 31, 2011
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Here you will be able to read all kinds of great Ghost Stories , watch videos about ghosts and be sure to check our list of all our other sites below. If you want to know about a famous haunted place or ghost we probably have a page about it for you.
The Whaley House
One notable thing I have done is I have been inside the two “authentically” haunted houses in California. The first was the Winchester House, and the second, the Whaley House.
The Whaley House is a lot smaller, but has more drastic haunting. When I first entered it, I was drawn upstairs to the little theater. I then felt a strange pressure in my chest, and I breathed heavily. I left the room and the house FAST.
After getting some fresh air, I went to the garden and was around a small shed (now a bathroom). I had a strong feeling something was wrong with it.
I later went back into the house to hear the tour guide person (the house is very small, so it wasn’t actually a tour). He told the little audience about the house.
He said one of Whaley’s daughters committed suicide in the shed/bathroom. I felt that, I know I did. And he shared his own haunted experience in the theater. He felt someone was watching him.
The theater is probably the most haunted place in the house, and it’s the one where I felt the most energy.
Eastern State Penitentiary
Last summer, my girlfriend (who has some ability as a sensitive) and I decided to tour Eastern State Penitentiary, after watching that same episode about it on “Ghost Hunters” on Sci-Fi.
We went during the week on a VERY hot day. As such, we were two of about six people in the whole place. We had it pretty much to ourselves. We took the self-guided tour, as neither of us like to be held up by pokey people lagging behind. We walked though all the spokes of the prison that were open to the public.
We felt nothing till we reached the Death Row cellblock. For several minutes we stood inside, looked around at the cells and took in the feel. It was noticeably cooler inside, though the doors were open, and most of the windows were gone.
We finally walked out the door to the outside of this particular spoke in the wheel and turned to walk to the next one. Behind me I heard a low moan – “Ahhhhh ... uhhhhhhhhhh...” – as if someone was disappointed. I stopped immediately and turned around. My girlfriend, however, kept right on walking.
I turned quickly to see if she had heard it. Before I could get anything out, she said, “I heard it. Ignore him. If he had something to say, he could have done it while we were inside. He’s just playing games. I don’t play." And she kept right one walking.
I glanced back over my shoulder at Death Row, shrugged and kept walking. We were treated to taps and knocking following us along the wall till we reached the next building.
While neither of us was frightened, we BOTH wondered, if the place was so active during the day, what would a night trip actually be like? We will go back this spring with equipment and friends. I’ll be sure to post if anything interesting occurs.
Meet the Infamous Women of England
I have just returned from the UK. When I was in London I visited Westminster Abbey and Windsor Castle.
While I was in Westminster Abbey I came across the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots. I am told this has happened to other people – a strong urge came to cross oneself and pray. I moved from her tomb and went on discovering the other tombs of monarchs and aristocracy. I came across an alcove with a tomb of a husband and wife who seemed to have met their demise in the 16th century. Immediately a putrid smell arrested my nose, like a smell of the sewer. Nowhere else in Westminster Abbey did I smell that.
A feeling of incredible fear overtook me. I was standing on the side of the wife’s tomb. I fled the alcove and went looking for the guide so he could tell who lay buried there, as it was all mainly written in Latin. The guide came back and said it was Anne of Middlesex and her husband. I thought no more of it, till the smell stayed with me for miles and miles, and at least three hours after I had left London.
I rang a friend and asked her who Anne of Middlesex was, and also related to her the awful smell. She replied in shock that Anne of Middlesex was a notorious poisoner, witch and as evil as one could be. I asked her, why the bad smell? She replied, “Because she was bad.”
Next I went onto Windsor castle. Two weeks later I was looking through the galleries of paintings, when I noticed the portrait of a woman in a green dress. She was not bad to look at, but something made me say, “Look that horrible woman.”
From the minute I uttered the words, the eyes in the painting followed me all around the room. As I was leaving – and it was for more than one second – as I kept staring in disbelief, the face had turned into a look of unspeakable hatred, a sneer so evil I had to leave the room in a hurry.
I later rang the same friend, who is an old Englishwoman, the same one who informed me of the reputation of Anne of Middlesex. She was almost certain that I had gazed on the portrait of Madame de Villiers, another evil woman.
I wandered the ancient city of Bath on Halloween and encountered nothing, but by accident at Westminster Abbey and Windsor castle, I was accosted by two of the most evil women of English history, and one of the most devout Catholic ones, Mary, Queen of Scots.
Later I decided to look up some information about Anne of Middlesex. The place I was heading to where I was staying in the UK was Bath. As I previously wrote, that unspeakable smell followed me on the bus all the way there.
The information I have read about Anne of Middlesex was she was the daughter of the Lord of Bath, so that explains why that smell stayed with me till I reached there. She obviously accompanied me back to her place of birth.
Gettysburg Experience
I am a huge history buff, and my family and I were fortunate enough to stay in Gettysburg for 10 days in the summer of 2004.
On the second or third day, I ended up in a field just past Devil’s Den. It was about 4:30 and a little overcast, but not dark. I was by myself, no other visitors, and my family was still at Devil’s Den. I was about 30-40 feet (not very far) inside the gate and on a well-worn dirt path, when I got a really strange feeling, like I shouldn’t go any further. I tried taking a few more steps and just couldn’t do it. This isn’t like me. I’m pretty level headed and don’t scare easily, but it was just one of those feelings you don’t ignore.
I lifted my camera to take a picture of the beautiful area, asking if anyone would like to be in the picture to please feel free to do so. As I was focusing the shot, I felt a “tap” on my leg! I actually turned around to see who it was. There was nobody there. I went to get my 16-year-old daughter. I didn’t tell her what happened or how I felt entering the field, just that I wanted her to come with me. (So I could document anything else that might happen and not to put preconceived thoughts or ideas in her head.)
We got back there about 10 minutes later, and I still couldn’t go past that point. So we were about to turn around and leave, when we heard footsteps to the left of us (no wind that day, and still nobody in the field) and whispering on the right of us (no wind/nobody there). We left pretty quickly, not running and screaming, but quickly. I asked her later what she heard.
She heard the same thing I did at the time. We both heard footsteps in the waist-high grass to the left and the whispering of two to three people on the right, but we couldn’t make out what they were saying. I regret not having a digital recorder right then. A few days later I went back with my daughter and another person from our B&B and got to the end of the path with only two “minor” incidents.
My daughter stopped in about the same place as before and asked if the bushes were supposed to “grab you.” She was nowhere near a bush and felt “something” touch her on the shoulder. A few minutes later, at the stone wall that runs across the middle part of the field before the tree line, the video function and battery on my digital camera went bad just as I was filming, and then it was fine after I left.
It was a very interesting experience, and I plan on going back to Gettysburg as soon as I can.
The Bunnyman's Bridge
I first read about the “Bunnyman’s Bridge” last year in ninth grade. There was a picture of the bridge in my school newspaper, but I cannot send it in because I don’t know where the paper is, and I don’t know how to submit ghost photos.
The legend goes on to say that a man was at a mental hospital, and he escaped. Just as the police were about to catch him, he committed suicide by jumping in front of an incoming train. He now haunts the bridge, the Bunnyman Bridge (he dresses as a bunny). The bridge had another name, but I cannot remember what it is.
The legend also says that if you go to the bridge at midnight on Halloween, you will see the Bunnyman. But you have to be careful because the police are there, and they really don’t want kids there.
The bridge is located at Chapel Road off Colchester Road in Clifton, Virginia. If you want to see the Bunnyman, go to the bridge and say three times really loud, “Bunnyman! Bunnyman! Bunnyman!”
Shanghai Tunnels
I went to the Portland Underground for my birthday one time. The Portland Underground, better known as the Shanghai Tunnels, is located in Portland, Oregon. These were underground tunnels that went all over Portland, and tours were held here.
Once inside, the tour guide started telling the tunnel’s history and whatnot. He talked about Nina, a famous ghost that is supposed to haunt the Underground. He told me and my friends about the stuff she did to the tourists, like grabbing their shirts, touching the back of their neck or their arm, and even appearing before their very eyes.
As we progressed through the tunnels we came to a large room. The tour guide did his routine and began telling the history of the place. I was in the back of the room listening. A few moments later, I feel something ice-cold slide across the back of my neck like a finger. I gasped but then smiled, knowing it was Nina. I just pretended like it never happened.
We went into the next room. Same routine – history was being told, and I was in the back of the room. A few moments later, something ice-cold, same feeling as before, slid across my head, rubbing my hair. I turned around; there was nothing there.
Nothing else happened after that, and we left the tunnels telling each other our experiences. The next day, to my surprise, I found a white streak of hair on my head right in the spot where I was touched.
I had my sister examine the back of my neck, and sure enough, there was a blue streak across it. The blue streak eventually went away, but the mark in my hair, which goes down to the root, is still here. And it’s been here for two years. I am looking forward to going to the Shanghai Tunnels again.
West Virginia State Penitentiary
One Halloween weekend about two years ago I took a “haunted” tour of the West Virginia State Penitentiary with some of my friends. The place was well known for its hauntings and was featured on MTV's short-lived “Fear” program.
The first half of the tour was of the actual prison and the most “haunted” spots, and the second half was set up like any other cheesy haunted house...
One of the events on the tour was the guard (or ex-prisoner, in my case) who was doubling as the tour guide would lock everyone in their own cell in pitch darkness and tell stories walking up and down the row. I got into my cell, and it really wasn’t that bad. I was getting bored with the stories the tour guide was telling so I started to explore.
On the wall in front of the toilet were two painted handprints, almost like whoever was prisoner in the cell painted the marks where his hands should go when he goes to the bathroom. Out of rebellion, for lack of a better term, I put my hands on it. Immediately my hands grew hot, and the rest of my body was freezing. This shook me up a bit but I wrote it off as just an overactive imagination. I wouldn’t call myself a skeptic per se, but I try to debunk everything first.
I then decided to test fate a bit more by laying on the metal bed frame connected to the wall by chains holding it at the outside corners. I lay there a bit, thinking of how horrible it would be to be in jail, when suddenly the bed frame began to shake violently. I jumped up and stood against the opposite wall. The bed stopped as soon as I got up. I went over and tried to lift it or see if the chains could be pulled from the adjacent cell, but the chains were bolted, and the bed was a good 150 lbs. I could hardly lift it, let alone shake it as much as it did.
I finally was let out of my cell without another incident, but to this day I don’t know what the hell went on to me in that cell – Cell 11. Has anyone else had a story similar to mine in the WV State Pen?
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