"Look at Me" wins, hands down. This was me at the end:

Holy. Shit. "Look at Me" was so scary I realized at the end I was sitting with my hands covering my mouth, feeling like I was about to hurl. And I'm sitting in a lit office, with my coworkers benignly chatting nearby,

I have a bunch of stories about suspected ghosts from the funeral home at which I used to work. I myself never got scared or weirded out since I never got any sense of hostility or unpleasantness, but maybe I'm just jaded. The funeral home was in a gorgeous old Victorian brownstone mansion in center city…

I have a similar story. My mother tells me that until the age of six, I was absolutely TERRIFIED of water. Bathing me was a nightmare; I freaked out if water was poured over me, would never go to the kiddie pool, even a drop of water on my swimsuit required a new and dry one.

Never seen one myself but I have a story from someone I trust. A few years ago, I asked my SO if he had ever seen a ghost. He got really uncomfortable and squirrelly, lots of hemming and hawing. Annoyed, I said "Just say yes or no! I won't judge if you think you have seen a ghost." (I'm a skeptic and figured he didn't…

This is the closest thing I have to a ghost story. It isn't scary, but it is haunting.

When I was a kid I used to go to church with my aunt and uncle every Sunday, and after church, my aunt would go up in her painting studio and paint and I would mess around and play pretend or whatever in the living room. One weekend in November when I was 9, my uncle went out of town to go hunting, so my aunt and I…

We live in a hundred-year old brownstone. When we moved in, my second child was just starting to talk, and he would often talk to the wall, it seemed, and he would laugh and laugh. Once he started talking better I asked him who he was talking to and he answered, "The man." When I pressed him, he said, "The man who…

I submitted last year ("Stone Cold Kid") and thought I'd do the same this year. Just like last years story, I submitted this to yourghoststories.com looking for "answers" and feedback from the community. Anywho, here it goes:

This is a story my father told me while looking though old family photos a few weekends ago.…

Sixth grade. My parents and my older brothers and I moved to a new house a couple towns away from the one I grew up in. As per usual with creepy ass houses before you know just how creepy they are, my parents got this huge 5 bedroom house for a steal. It had a weird almost-circular layout, with giant foyer that…

So this incident happened to me when I was an undergrad. Let me preface this by saying that I am adamantly a skeptic. I do not believe that there is an afterlife; I do not believe in ghosts; I do not believe in premonition. Period. I think simple brain chemistry explains 75% of hauntings.

When I was 17 years old, I was an avid romance reader. I'd sneak all of my mother's Harlequin novels and lock myself in my bedroom and just absorb all of it's cheesy, dramatic, goodness. So when I started dreaming of this dashing, young fellow in a breezy, ruffled, white shirt (think Fabio or whatever any man on a…

My grandfather (Papaw) died in a car accident when I was still an infant. Naturally, my mother - always a Daddy's girl - tried to insure that I had some idea and concept of him growing up. We had dozens of photos of Papaw and my grandmother around our home, and I spent my very early childhood with a solid idea of what…

Goosebumps for DAYZ.

I come down to the kitchen for breakfast on a Saturday morning. My mom and my sister are already up, and they look exhausted. My mom asks, "Did you sleep alright?"

So I told what I thought was the one story I had that was spooky story worthy. But then this happened over Christmas:

I have a story!

I live in a very old area of town. Almost every other house on my street is a "century home" with a little plaque saying it was built in 1905 or sometime thereabouts. Mine doesn't just because it costs money to get that title.

I pride myself on my car trip taking patience. I never rush, I take frequent breaks, and I try to generally enjoy the car trip as much as is possible. Sometimes this leads to overnight stays in random hotels in Connecticut.

Context: I am recounting an experience that I had about 8 years ago when I was a sophomore in college in West Chester, PA. I am recounting it to the best of my ability but some details might have been lost due to the time passing and the fact that I try not to think about this all that often.