Ghost Asking For Cigarettes

The incident I am going to share here is my true personal experience which happened to me long time back. I came across this site few days back and thought to share it with other people who had similar experiences. So it goes like this:
I had just joined the State Government Service and was posted in Mandala district of Madhya Pradesh (a state in central India and is famous for dense forests and wild animals). Now that district comes under Chattisgarh. The area I was posted in, was full of forests nearby and was in very much outskirts of the main city and as I was new in the service, I had to follow the orders from office blindly without any argue. So I had no choice for my posting as well. Moreover, I was a bachelor, so the place made a little difference to my lifestyle.
The area was full of forest vegetation and there were very less number of people living in the locality. Also that place was very much infamous for a number of ghostly happenings, specially the area nearby a small bridge which happened to be located on the shortcut path between my residence and office. The local people used to avoid that way as they believed that the bridge area was badly haunted. As my residence was a bit far from my reporting office and it took quite a good time to reach there by main road, so I generally took that shortcut to save my time despite people forbidding it all the time. One more reason to take that way was I traveled during day time, which was supposed to be a safe time.
But it happened one late night when I got an urgent call from my senior officer and he ordered to come to office as soon as possible.
I again had no choice but to follow the order and go to office at that graveyard time, so I left at the earliest. As I was in hurry, I chose the shortcut way to go. After some time of walking when I was almost on bridge, I heard someone calling my name "Harsh" from back.
In India, our elders have always forbidden us to look back at night when some unknown voice calls you from behind as they believe here that it must be some ghostly thing. Well that all depends on your belief in these things. And at that time I had nothing on mind other that reaching office as early as possible. So I didn't think of it much and looked back suddenly. There was a middle aged man coming out of nothing but darkness few meters behind me and was calling me by my name. (Let me tell you that the area was totally abandoned by local people and nobody even dared to go to that place even during day time. So possibility of somebody living there was totally ruled out.)
I halted there only and was trying to make out if I know him. In the meanwhile he came to me and asked "Harsh do you have cigarette?" By that time I was totally confused how he knew my name as I couldn't recognize him at all. Suddenly I saw his legs and to my shock his feet were backwards (direction of feet at 180 degree from what normal human beings have). Again in India people believe that ghosts and witches have their feet rounded backwards. I had already heard it several times but saw it for the first time in my life and could hardly believe my eyes.
By that time I was sure that he was not a human being as the feeling of his presence was very unearthly and the temperature around had suddenly dropped. It was chilling out there. I couldn't do much and was stuck there looking at him. He asked again "Do you have a cigarette?". I was startled and as I don't smoke so there was no chance of me carrying a cigarette. I said "no". The man told "OK no problem, you can go now but do bring me a cigarette tomorrow. Come here at the same time tomorrow, I will be here waiting for you. So don't forget to bring it."
I had no other option than agreeing him and left the place.
When I reached office, I told the incident to one of my colleague who was also a good friend of mine. He was a believer and knowledgeable person of these paranormal happenings. He told me that the man I met on the way must be the ghost of some man who was fond of cigarettes and probably had died around that place.
But as he has demanded the thing, so it's really necessary to provide him with it or otherwise he will continue to haunt me in future as well. Now that I knew I met a ghost, I was trembling with fear and was really afraid to go to that place again.
My friend assured me that he will come with me but will be standing at a good distance from that place as the ghost has called only me and he may not like somebody else coming along with me.
Anyhow I gathered courage to go again. I bought a packet of cigarettes and a matchbox and went at the same bridge next night at the same time. My friend was standing at some distance which was actually a bit far but still I had a surety that someone is there at least. Suddenly I heard my name from back."Harsh have you brought the cigarette?".I looked back and the man's ghost was there looking at me. His feet were still backwards.
God! Whenever I saw it a chill run through my spine but I was trying to be normal. I told yes and gave the packet and match box to him. He was very pleased to see the whole packet and said "thanks a lot, now you can go". He returned back and disappeared into nothing and once again I couldn't believe my eyes
After he vanished I felt relieved a bit and without wasting a second walked towards the direction where my friend was standing. After almost running I reached the safe zone. My friend asked if everything is fine and I told about what happened there. We were relaxed now and left that place. After that incident, as long as I was posted there I never used that shortcut, even at day time.
I kept hearing several incidents from other people as well about that area. I don't know whether I should believe in them or not but I believe what happened to me was something which I can say as "supernatural".

An Unforgettable Night

t was during the cold winter night of January this incident occurred, a night; we tried to forget but just can't get it out of our minds.
It was a Saturday and the three of us, Sanju, Ajay and Jeetu (me) had been all day together, enjoying ourselves. 10 p.m. Was the time; we were at Sanju's house, passing our time by talking, playing games and cracking jokes. Ajay asked what the plan was for dinner. Sanju said he knew a new place that had opened up and had great food. Pritam's Dhaba was the place at the outskirts of the city; at least an hour drives from Sanju's place. We did not argue much, and decided to go ahead. Sanju picked up the keys of his Honda Accord and we left around 11 p.m. We reached the Dhaba, we ate and were done by 12 midnight at which point it was time to head back home. We sat in the car; Sanju drove, with me on the passenger seat and Ajay alone on the back seat. 10 minutes passed and I realized Sanju had taken a different route. He said it would save us some time getting back.
The road was deserted as it had only swamps around it. It was a no-moons night and the temperature was around 12 degrees. It was a long stretch of road, and for some reason I was getting the chills. 12. 30 a.m. We were in the middle of this dreaded road around the swamps and our car started to slow down and with a few jerks stopped in the middle of nowhere. "What happened Sanju?" I asked. "Wait, I'll check" he answered. Sanju opened the Bonnet and started to check what the problem was. I sat in the car and Ajay got out of the car saying "I want to pee". Sanju finished off playing with the engines and came sat in the car. "Prob solved, where's Ajay?" he asked. He's gone to pee. I said.
Ajay returned and sat back in the car. "What took you so long dude?" I asked.
He did not respond. Sanju was wiping his hands, when he asked Ajay the same question and turned back to have a look at Ajay. Sanju turned back and froze for the next 10 seconds. I looked at Sanju and asked "What happened, what's the matter with you?"
Not getting a response from him I also turned back to Ajay who was sitting right behind me to see what the problem was. Ajay just stared at us angrily, with utter disgust. His nostrils flared up, his hair was a mess and what even spooked me more was when I saw his eyes. Brown coloured cattish eyes, whereas Ajay had black eyes in reality and did not wear lenses. Five Seconds later Ajay's hands were on his neck choking himself, he screamed in a shrilling Feminine voice and his eyes had rolled up, only the white of it could be seen. God, that scream was just horrible; it still gives me the creeps. Sanju and myself got out of the car. I opened the back door and tried to stop Ajay from choking himself, that's when he pushed me with his left hand and I fell at least six feet away.
Physically, on normal day, it was not possible for Ajay to do that to me. Sanju helped me get up. We both were in shock and scared for our friend.
"What do we do?" Sanju asked. I went to the car and removed the small idol of Lord Ganesh (Hindu God) that was kept next to the steering wheel. I gave Sanju the idol and a bottle of water. We opened the back doors again, Ajay was still choking himself, I started to recite the Hanuman Chalisa (Sacred Hindu Mantra) and this time held his hand's firm and pulled them from his neck, Sanju at the same time put the Ganesh idol in his pocket and poured the water on his face. It worked; Ajay started to calm down and fainted eventually. Sanju and myself were still in shock and were trying to figure out what had happened in the last 15 minutes. I signaled to Sanju that we should leave ASAP.
We went to Sanju's house and carried Ajay to his bedroom. We sat next to him.
He woke up at 7 in the morning and looked at us and asked, "What happened, how did I get here and why are you guys awake and staring at me? "Nothing, you just fell asleep in the car and we brought you here." I replied with a nervous smile. Later we dropped him home, and told the incident to his father. We kept a watch over him for a few days to see if anything about him had changed or not, but he seemed to be fine. His father thanked us and asked us to forget it and never discuss it again.
We never discussed it with anyone, but cannot forget that night and may not be able to forget it, a night when we almost lost our friend.

A Visit To The Graveyard

IN early 2010, I changed my job and joined an Organization which had its Head Quarters in Bangalore (India). Though I was based out of Pune, I was called to Bangalore for an Induction session and meetings with the Company's Senior Management. The whole schedule was for around 5 days. After I reached Bangalore I found out that there were around eight others who had recently joined the Organization at the same time as me. We were all housed at the Company's guest house a short distance away from the office. The induction sessions were from 9.00 am in the morning to 5.30 pm in the evening. Past that all of us had a lot of free time on our hands and used it to get to know each other better.

For this particular story, I would like to mention the names of three colleagues out of the eight who were to play an important role in the incidents to follow.

I struck a great rapport with Ajay, Shailesh and Navin. It's not that I was unfriendly with the rest but I got along with these guys like a house on fire. Ajay was a Punjabi from Northern India, very talkative and always ready to take up a challenge. Shailesh was from Mumbai, quick witted but generally quiet. Navin was a resident of Bangalore whose personality was similar to Shailesh but he had a great sense of humor and his one liners kept us entertained all throughout. We had a great time together during this period and got to know each other really well.

During one of our conversations after dinner, Navin told us that there was a graveyard near to the guest house. Our housekeeper Sri had also told him of strange happenings there. The road leading to the graveyard was lonely and generally avoided by people especially at night. He had asked Navin to inform everyone not to venture out on that particular stretch. Ajay was a total non believer and scoffed at the very idea of ghosts and the paranormal. The rest of us were intrigued by this story and wanted to know more but Navin himself had limited knowledge. Sri wouldn't tell us anything more so we let the matter rest there.

Soon it was our final day in Bangalore. After the induction sessions were over, our seniors had arranged for a dinner at a nearby hotel. We had a great time and were treated to a lavish dinner. Ajay in particular enjoyed the most and had one drink too many. Once we were back at the guest house after dinner, all of us started packing our bags since we had to leave early the next morning. After packing our bags we sat down reminiscing the great time we had spent in the last couple of days. The topic of the old graveyard was again brought up by Navin. Seeing Ajay scoff again, he was a bit irritated and dared Ajay to go to the graveyard and spend an hour over there alone. Ajay was a bit high and in the spur of the moment immediately accepted the dare. He stood up and immediately began to walk out of the guest house. We tried to restrain him but to no avail. Being a teetotaler and in full control of my senses, I reluctantly decided to accompany him in his nocturnal adventure.

Ajay was in high spirits as we walked towards the graveyard. The road leading towards the same was very lonely without any signs of habitation. It must have been one km away from the guest house and it was 12. 30 am by the time we reached there. It was an old cemetery not used frequently by the locals. It somehow had an air of nostalgia about it. It was particularly cold that night since it was winter and nights in Bangalore in winter can be quite cold. We reached the gate and were stopped by an old man who introduced himself as the security guard, Abu Chacha. He suspiciously asked us the reason for coming there at such an unearthly hour. Ajay immediately jumped in and told Abu Chacha that one of his relatives was buried there and he had to visit him that night itself as he had come to Bangalore for a short visit and was to fly off to London the coming morning. Abu Chacha sympathized with us and told us to make it quick.

We slowly made our way inside the graveyard. It seemed like a normal cemetery. There was a cemented path in the center with graves lying on either sides of the road. There was eerie silence except for the occasional howling of the strays who roamed freely in the area around the cemetery. There was a bench at a short distance away. Ajay, still high told me that he wanted to sit there and spend a couple of minutes and enjoy the solitude. I was feeling uncomfortable but relented to Ajay's persistent request. We sat down and Ajay immediately put his hand in his pocket, taking out a cigarette. I tried to dissuade him against doing so as it would disturb the sanctity of the place. He was in no mood to listen and had his way. After spending a few more uncomfortable minutes on the bench, Ajay told me that he wanted to move further inside and check out the rest of the place. We had hardly walked a couple of paces ahead when he told me that he suddenly had this overwhelming urge to pee. I told him to immediately refrain from doing so and that it was high time that we left the place. But stubborn as he was, Ajay did not listen to my advice. Winking slyly at me, he went off to some nearby bushes a little away from the place where we were sitting, promising to return quickly. The bushes were thick and I could not see him at all from my current location. Suddenly I felt weak and found it very difficult to breathe as if someone was trying to squeeze the life out of me. I dropped to my knees on the road below. As my gaze turned ahead further down the road, I could see a shadowy form slowly move away from me. It seemed to stop for a moment as if to cast an eerie glance at me before slowly melting away into nothingness.

My head started spinning and a feeling of horror took over me affecting my ability to think clearly. With great difficulty I regained my composure and then it dawned on me that Ajay still hadn't returned. I called out to him but there was no response. I slowly made my way towards the bushes where Ajay had gone a short while ago. I was horrified by what I saw. Ajay was lying senseless on the ground. Not knowing what to expect I got down and shook him vigorously. This fortunately worked and Ajay slowly regained consciousness.

Once Ajay was full conscious he told me he heard some movement near the bushes where he was peeing and suddenly felt as if someone was standing behind him. He instantly experienced the same feeling of weakness and breathlessness as me. Before he could call out to me, he felt a stinging blow on his back which rendered him unconscious until the time I shook him awake. He was still feeling pain near the shoulder. (Later when I had a look at it, I saw a clear imprint of five fingers clearly visible on his upper back and the whole area had become blue due to the clotting of blood). Not wanting to spend another minute over there we proceeded towards the gate of the cemetery. We were suddenly stopped by a young man who asked us sternly as to what we were doing in the cemetery at such a late hour. We quickly told him that we had taken permission from the old man, Abu Chacha and also told us our ordeal. He was surprised at the mention of the name Abu Chacha and told us that no one except him had stood guard at the cemetery for the last 5 years. Some people had earlier told him of an old man being seen around the cemetery especially late in the evening. He had never come across Abu Chacha or whoever the old man was. This was too much for Ajay to bear and he fainted at the gate itself. We carried him slowly to the guard's cabin at the entrance after which I immediately called my colleagues to rush there with a vehicle and get us back to the guest house. It was close to 3.30am by the time we were at the guest house.

On relating the incident to our caretaker Sri, he cursed us for our folly and told us that we were very lucky to get away unharmed. Ajay was down with high fever for the next couple of days and had to stay back in Bangalore. Being a religious person, I promised myself never to be a part of such activities in future. When I met Ajay a couple of months later, I found that he had mellowed down quite a bit. He was also wearing a "Taaviz" (a locket) given to him by one of the priests at a temple in his hometown.

This sure was an amazing transition from a skeptic to a believer.

Hello, my name is Sarthak Ladhani . Since my childhood I've had several paranormal experiences. I always felt I could see and feel the supernatural. Being a kid, nobody believed me so I rather keep my experiences to myself and related it to those who faced similar experiences.
This incident occurred when I was in Kolkata during my college days. I used to rent a flat with five other girls. The flat was a two-story building with just two houses. One was ours and the other on the second floor belonged to two old ladies who never really interacted with us. They were weird anyways. It was a huge flat with three very big rooms. I used to stay in a single room, four girls in adjacent room and the last room was given to another girl. The four girls opted to stay together in the same room. There was a dining area in the centre with kitchen opposite to it. I always found the dining area very weird as the walls were black, as if they were burnt.
Three girls from the adjacent room used to work in call centres, so they arrived at 2:00am each day. That night Shweta (the girl from their group), the last room girl and I were chatting until late night in my room and we didn't realize when the clock struck 2:00 am. The other girls (Fatima, Mandeep and Neha) rung the bell. Now, we had a grill at the building entrance and the flat was in the floor, so we had to go down to the ground floor to open the gate if somebody comes at night. So Shweta and the last room girl went downstairs to open the gate for them. I was alone in the flat. Suddenly both of them came running. I was surprised and asked them what happened? They looked at me and said, "Niki, why did you shout so loudly and we could hear a loud sound". I was surprised. How is it possible for me not to hear that loud sound and shout in that 2:00 am silent night? We found it very strange but ignored the incident.
Days passed by quite normally, but each one of us in the flat always felt a spooky presence when alone.
That day was my last day in that house. All other girls had already shifted to different places. I found a place for myself too, and it was the last night I had to spend in that house. I remember all my furniture was already shifted to the new house. All I had in the house was my double bed mattress and a pair of clothes for me to wear for the next day.
It was around 12:30 am. I was speaking over the phone and lying on my mattress, which was placed on the floor as the bed was already shifted. The room door was closed (not locked). Suddenly the door opened of its own. Please bear in mind the door was a heavy wood door which cannot be moved by wind because first, it was tight. And second, it was an old age thick heavy door found in old houses. When the door opened, it moved me back. I could clearly sense somebody in the room. I kept my phone down. I was horrified by then. I could not move. I was still lying on the mattress. It was complete silence. I could hear somebody breathing. I could hear somebody walking on the floor barefoot. The sound was very clear and distinct. I wanted to move but could not. Somehow I gathered the courage to pick up the cell phone lying beside me and dialed my mom's number. I was crying and told my mom whatever was happening to me each second. My mother got to know immediately what it was and gave me the courage to fight the evil. She made me realise that power of God is always there to protect me. I always carry my God's picture in my purse. I somehow managed to grab my purse and take out God's picture. It gave me strength. I stated chanting the name of Lord repeatedly and could feel the energy fading. I then felt alone. Very alone. The whole night I could not sleep for a second. I continuously chanted prayers and waited for the sun to arise.
Many days later, after moving from that flat, I was once passing from the same area with some of my other friends and told them about my incident. One of my friends who stays near that same flat said that it was a haunted house and the whole area knows it. It once caught fire killing a man.

There are places in the world that defy description. The horrors of what happened within their walls seem far-fetched or even impossible outside the confines of a horror movie. And yet, for many places, fiction could not even hope to capture the terrors of real life. Strangers from far away, riches and murder most foul may begin the story, but where does it end? If it had ended, some might say, the house would not be haunted.

New Orleans is an incredible place. Entire books are written about the haunted history of this relatively small town, and around every corner there's something new and macabre to discover. With a history so rich, it's little wonder that there are places where the dead just can't rest. And in some places, the cause of that haunting is just so bizarre that it can't possibly be true. Could it?

History
The innocuous-looking house in the French Quarter is well over 170 years old. It was built in 1836 by a dentist from Philadelphia named Joseph Coulton Gardette. In 1839, he sold the house to a wealthy Creole businessman named Jean Baptist LaPrete, who used the house as not only ahome, but as a showplace for his considerable wealth. Toward the end of the Civil War, LaPrete's fortunes dried up, leaving him with little choice but to rent the house out. The renter came from a most unexpected source.

Exactly who he was is a matter of conjecture, as his name has never really been revealed. But what is known are his claims and what happened with his arrival. According to the mysterious stranger from Turkey, he was the deposed ruler of a distant eastern land, and brother to a Sultan who remained in Turkey. When he arrived at the New Orleans docks, he was followed by a huge entourage that included men, eunuchs, scores of trunks and suitcases, tapestries, and Women. Lots of women. When he moved into the house, he immediately had the balconies closed and locked. Throughout the day and night, men with scimitars walked the balconies. It was his plan, he said, to use his considerable riches to turn the house into a palace where his pleasures could be sated.

Rumors abounded, not only about the size of his harem, but about just who was in it. While the women were of all ages and builds, there were also reputed to be young boys. He also had the reputation of kidnapping young women that he found attractive off the streets of New Orleans and "indoctrinating" them into his hedonistic way of life.

One evening, the sounds of laughter and moans of pleasure gave way to terrified screams. While they were used to things getting rowdy in home now called the "Sultan's Palace," the neighbors found the quiet in the morning chilling. As they approached the house, the found blood streaming from under the front door and pooling on the street. Horrified, the neighbors called the police. When they broke down the front door, they were shocked and aghast by what they found.

Everyone was dead. Every man, woman and child in the house had been hacked into so many pieces that counting them proved futile, and it became impossible to distinguish whose arm belonged to whom. The women and boys of the harem were raped and mutilated, as were the guards, before they were killed. As for the Turk himself, he was found in the building's courtyard garden, quite dead as well. He'd had his throat cut, but was buried while still alive. Though the police searched diligently for the murderers, they never found out who committed the crime. They did, however, have two theories: First that pirates and thieves had managed to sneak inside the house, past the armed guards, without raising an alarm, then murdered everyone and stole the riches. The second theory made more sense, that the Turk's brother, who was the real Sultan, discovered where the Turk was hiding and sent assassins to reclaim the family fortune and to "deal with" the Turk. Whichever the case, no one really knows for sure.

Ghosts
There are several events that still occur in the "palace," all of them directly related to the brutal massacre. Often, tenants hear the faint sound of music from the Orient in the air, even when there's no one to play it. There have also been numerous reports of phantom footsteps and the sounds of parties, as well as sightings of many of the Sultan's entourage moving from room to room. All that would be enough, but there are two other things that still happen that earn the old building the dubious distinction of being one of the more frightening places in the world.

The first is the apparition of the Sultan himself, the fair-haired Turk who has been known to zip in and out of lodger's rooms unannounced. He disappears just as quickly, and have given many the impression that he's watching them, possibly to add to his harem. The other phenomenon is also the most terrifying. The sounds of screams have pierced the night and darkness, as if the slaughter were still happening.

Present Day
After so brutal a crime, the house stood understandably empty for a while before being sold. Now decrepit and ignored the house became, in 1940, the New Orleans Academy of Art. When war took so many of the school's students, it became a boarding house, then a hiding place for vagrants. It was eventually rescued, and the building was sectioned into luxury apartments, in much the same way as the infamous LaLaurie House.

Best Times
The "Sultan's Palace" is a private residence, and the owners deserve to be treated with respect. However, the house is on a public street (Dauphine), and can be photographed at any time. Also, most of the many New Orleans ghost tours walk right past the building while retelling the history. So the best time, it seems, would be in the evening, after a few New Orleans Hurricanes (the drink, not the weather condition).

THE WITCHING HOUR

At the corner of Orleans Street and Dauphine Street in the heart of the French Quarter sits a rather unassuming four story Greek Revival house  of an indistinct shade of pale pink. Blackwrought iron elegantly compliments the simplicity of the pale wall colouring. Walking past it, no one would guess that it was once the site of a pretty gruesome murder that happened in the 19th century. Local paranormal enthusiasts probably know the house better as The Sultan’s Palace, so if you’re ever in town and want to have a gander, ask for that rather than The Gardette-Laprete House.

The house was built in 1836 for a dentist from Philadelphia named Joseph Coulton Gardette. Not long after it was built, he sold it to a local businessman named Jean Baptist LaPrete who used it to showcase his vast wealth. Once the Civil War came to an end, however, so did Monsieur LaPrete’s fortunes. He was forced to rent the house for income and the first new occupant was a bit unusual.

There has never been a lot of information available on exactly who the renter was, but it has been alleged that he was from Turkey. He was allegedly a deposed ruler of some eastern land with a brother who was a Sultan who remained behind in Turkey. His arrival in New Orleans was seemingly larger than life. Included in his entourage were eunuchs, men, tapestries, trunks and suitcases and women. Lots of them. Once moved into his new home, the balconies were permanently closed and locked. It was said he intended to use the house as a palace where his pleasures could be satisfied. Rumours spread that he would kidnap local women and indoctrinate them into his hedonistic lifestyle, growing his already sizable harem. Some say he tortured the kidnap victims. Others hinted that it wasn’t just women of all ages taken in; boys were there as well. The house soon became known as “The Sultan’s Palace”.

One night, the sounds of pleasure gave way to screams of terror. Alerted neighbours cautiously approached the house; they were used to rowdy sounds emanating from the Sultan’s Palace, but this was different. They found blood oozing out from under the front door and immediately called for the police. When knocks when unanswered, they forced their way inside. An unspeakable scene met them inside the house. Blood was everywhere. Splattered on the walls. Spread on the floor. Body parts strewn haphazardly around.  They found all the women of the harem, as well as the young boys, had been sexually assaulted. Even the guards brought with the Turk had been raped before being violently mutilated. The Turk himself did not escape death; his body was located buried in the courtyard where he’d been buried alive.

So who was behind this heinous crime? No one has ever had the real answer, but two theories developed in the days after the gruesome discovery:

1. Pirates. While this may seem like a far fetched idea, one only has to look into the history of Louisiana to learn that one Jean Lafitte, French pirate and privateer. Pirates were very much part of the culture of Southern Louisiana. So perhaps the Sultan had business with some local pirates and it had gone south and they were out for blood.

2. Family. Remember the brother that this alleged deposed ruler leftbehind in Turkey? Some think he sent men to New Orleans to murder the brother living here to remove any inheritance competition. Others think it might’ve been a case of avenging their family for theft of the family fortune.

Whatever the reason for this heinous crime, it certainly left behind its fair share of ghostly happenings. In the months after the crime, passersby insisted they could hear Oriental music emanating from the house as well as the scent of incense. Some have heard ghostly screams from unknown parts of the house and yet others have seen the ghostly visage of the Sultan himself.

While the house fell into disrepair for many years, it was put to use again in the 40s and 50s and at some point turned into an apartment building. To this day residents report seeing individuals around the house wearing Oriental clothing and hear footsteps when no one is around.

THE FARM VISITOR

I was 7, my brother 10, my mom in her early 40s, my grandmother (her mom) in her 60's. So we were all cogent. No one was too young or too senile to not recall this nonsense. Yet, still no bloody answer.

Grandma lived on an isolated country road in NC that was named after her family since they were the only crazy fuckers who lived on the land for about 1000 acres. And I *do* mean crazy. We have stories about relatives that start with, "You remember that time Uncle Bob was in the ditch with a shotgun?" "WHICH TIME?!"

Her house had been empty for several weeks while she'd been visiting us in Florida, but we were all back, spending the weekend with her before trekking back to the Sunshine state. The house is in the foreal country, literally over train-tracks, past a salvage yard and her nearest neighbor (a cousin — everyone is related to everyone who owns a house on the road) ain't within screamin' distance. Yes, that seems to be a real system of measurement — "screaming distance."

It's early in the AM, like just before daybreak. We're awake because these are farm freaks who wake at the crack of dawn from sheer ingrained habit. We're eating cereal when we hear someone pull up outside. Curious, we all run to the big picture window that looks onto the front yard. There is a strange truck there. No one seems to be behind the wheel, though the engine is idling. The truck is... well, old, for one thing. It's old-timey like from maybe the 1930's? You could picture the Joad Family heading to California in this thing. It's rusted but it was probably once painted blue.

We stare at the thing, bewildered. Mom asks grandma if she knows who that is. Nope, not a clue, says grandma. She runs to get the phone to call her cousin and ask him to come up — she thinks maybe it's a hired hand and he's just at the wrong farm. Just as she asks him to come on down, the phone goes dead. Well, that's unsettling.

All at once, there is a loud, insistent banging on the front door. We all scream. My grandma, who is terrifyingly resourceful, huddles us all into the living room, away from a window where anyone can see us. Then, while mom, me and my brother tremble there on the couch, she grabs a serrated bread knife from the kitchen and cautiously approaches the front door. She peeks out a side window, very stealthily. She turns back to us and looks confused. She shakes her head, like, "No one is there." We all kind of breathe easier.

Then EVERY goddamn door in the house is banging — relentlessly. I can still hear it. Rhythmic and terrifying, like all the doors are about to splinter and crack. There were two doors in the basement beneath us, so the sound is also a reverberation at our feet. The three ground-floor doors are shaking — we can see them trembling and jerking on their hinges from our vantage point on the couch. Finally, mom runs to the window — either from a psychotic break with reality or terror, I have no clue. She cries, "Oh thank Christ — Cousin is here!" We run to her and peek out the picture window — there is no one that we can see in the yard, but we can't see all the doors from our viewpoint.

Cousin walks by truck with a shotgun in his hand. Cousin, it should be noted, has pretty much every gun ever made. He looks puzzled, looking at the rear of the truck, then he glances in the cab window and he stops. He goes pale, runs a hand down his face. Then he RUNS towards to house, towards us.

My grandmother flings open the kitchen door as she sees him coming. He shouts, "Everyone get behind the couch! Get DOWN!" He runs past us as we bolt for the couch. The banging starts AGAIN, all the doors and now we can hear the windows rattle. It's like a tornado or the end of the world. We are too scared to even scream. Cousin flings open the front door and fires the huge shotgun, once, BANG, deafening. As he does, the truck roars into life and it sounds like a train. We scramble up; the banging stops, mercifully. Cousin is advancing onto the lawn, gun leveled at the truck. We run behind him, wanting to be out of that shaking, quivering house and near the dude with the gun. The truck peals out, backwards, cutting across the yard and racing into a breakneck speed. Tires sqeal, rubber is burned. Cousin fires again and we all cower behind him. He blows out the back window with the sound of a thousand plates smashing into linoleum but the truck never even hiccups, just roars down the road. No tags, not even a vanity plate on the back.

There was NO ONE behind the wheel of that thing.

We all had a clear view. Everyone agreed. Not a driver in the cab.

Well.

Not anything we could SEE, anyhow.

The police were called. The phone line had been cut. There was not a single boot print in the entire yard except Cousin's, from where he'd run into and out of the house. Cousin reported that there had been no plate but when he looked into the cab, it looked like "something from a horror movie." He said there were all kinds of weird restraints — handcuffs, c-clamps, nylon straps — and he said the floorboards looked covered in what "smelled like" blood to him (Cousin was famous for his keen sense of smell and the window was down, so it's possible).

Cousin said he thought he saw a blur of something out the picture window and ran to fire the first shot, but "missed" because, once he stood there, nothing or no one was on the lawn or in the truck. Then it shot backwards out of the yard and out of our lives, leaving no answers, just a deep sense of unease every time we'd visit.

Grandma and Cousin have passed. Deeply religious people, they stuck by their unchanging versions of the story until they died. My brother, mother and I have never been able to figure it out — neither did the cops, I think it should be noted. We don't know how all the windows and doors were banging, and we don't know why we never saw a SOUL anywhere or how they could get around the sides of the house without leaving a trace in the damp earth.

And just in case you want to get to sleep tonight, here's one with an explanation — though it's still pretty creepy.