900 DOLLARYDOOS?! TOBIAS!

Actions speak louder than words.

DeCordova Museum, while cool, is all the way out in Lincoln. I’ll give some leeway to people mentioning stuff in Cambridge or Somerville (easily accessible on foot or via the T), but Lincoln is pretty far out there.

FUUUUUUUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

NOOOOOO. And that sounds just like him! My father was a doctor in Houston and told me a story about a nurse he worked with whose car broke down on the side of an isolated road in the 70s. A really deranged, terrifying-looking dude with a weird eye approached her car and tried to break into it. She somehow got the car…

duuuuude, that’s terrifying. Reminds me of last year, in September before the election, I was getting gas at my usual station and this huge rumbling pickup covered in Trump stickers pulls up to the pump across from me. The guy gets out, and standing just three feet away, makes full eye contact and lights a cigarette.…

Ok here’s my contribution and I hope it gets me ungreyed because it’s 100% true and scary as fuck.

This is not a ghost story, but a horrible human encounter. This happened about 4.5 years ago:

That story is why I am no longer allowed to read scary stories.

Do you remember the story about how the kid was writing a paper with headphones on and there was writing all over the house that said “LOOK AT ME”? It still haunts me and that was I think like 3 years ago.

“Kinja was never good”

Looks like they’re hitting RCK BTTM

aw. your story had a nice ending. also, there are a few of us that are wading through all the stories. :)

(Copying/pasting from my own blog here, so yes, you can find an almost verbatim version of this elsewhere online.)

When I was a kid, my family acquired a Ouija board. We tried it out a few times, with minimal success, until one day, we ‘struck gold’.

This isn’t my story, but a friend’s. Still, it’s a comforting ghost story, and I always appreciate seeing one or two of those in a thread like this.

When I was twelve years old, my mother took me to a friend’s dinner party in his farmhouse. We were in Gadsden County, North Florida, out in the country. Our host had turned down the lights and there were candles everywhere. Over simple conversation someone asked me, in that special Southern way, where my people were…

Last year my husband and I moved into a very old brownstone in the Philadelphia. The house was built in 1860, and is now divided into 6 apartments. Ours is an Edgar Allan Poe story come to life - I was immediately drawn to its 14-foot ceilings with intricate molding, wood floors, fireplaces, tiny carved wooden…

Not mine, but here’s an old family story that comes by way of my late Great-Grandmother, a hardy rural Yugoslavian woman if there ever was one.

Not scary per se but we have a ghost in our house named Seymour. He was the original owner of our house some 60 years ago and he died in his bed. Our realtor never said a word about it though, so it was a bit of a surprise when things started happening. The first was about 6 weeks after we moved in and my husband and…