When I was young, in the Girl Scouts, I went to summer camp in a remote spot on the Mason Dixon line. It was fameous for being on the route of the South’s retreat from the defeat at Gettysburg.
There was a story that there was a lost patrol that still marched through there, on moonless nights. Anyone they noticed would be conscripted to join them.
It was one of many campfire stories we told, and I might have forgotten all about it, except for or one night. I woke up to the sound of drums in the woods.
The camp was silent. I cracked open the flap and froze. On the path a troop was marching through a low fog. Most were wounded, all wearing civil war uniforms, rucksacks, carrying muskets slung over the shoulder; as they marched a single drummer ticked off the time.
I tried not to even breathe as they marched by. Finally the last soldier came into view, and something about it really sent a chill through me. Just as they were about to go out of sight it’s head whipped around, and I thought our eyes met for a moment.
Soon after my family moved far away from Pennsylvania, and I convinced myself it was all a bad dream. I moved back here last month, and have been hearing drums late at night.
The new moon is soon, and I figured out what was disturbing about that last soldier. He wasn’t wearing a Civil War uniform. She wore a Girl Scout uniform..
submitted 5 hours ago by blargnog
It’s hard to explain without sounding crazy, I keep trying but I just know I sound like one of those crystal waving loonies. I can sense, and sometimes see, paranormal entities. They aren’t well-defined, mostly hazy figures or unnatural shadows, but sometimes, if they are strong and angry enough they can look nearly as real as any person. The only reason I’m not knocking down the doors of the nearest insane asylum is because I’m not the only member of my family that can do it. My dad and I are the strongest, I guess, but my brother isn’t exactly blind to them either. My mom and sister have nothing, and I’m glad for that. With the talent of “seeing” comes, sometimes, a gift for driving things away, exorcism if you will. And these things don’t like being forced away. But, I digress.
The ability to see these demons, ghosts, fey, whatever you want to call them truly is a freakin’ curse. Because it makes you stand out, it draws a target for creepy shit right on your back. It never stops, never goes away. And believe me, trying to work any job when you can see the skeletons hiding in people’s closets are not a fun thing, let alone trying to be a minimum wage checkout clerk in a major grocery store.
Here, let me explain what I mean. There is the older guy who comes in; he’s probably in his mid-fifties to early-sixties, and he looks like he’s somebody’s grandpa, albeit a Vietnam veteran, soldier of fortune battle-grandpa. He’s got silvered brown hair, tanned skin, a tall and trim physique, a jovial soft-spoken voice and friendly seeming eyes. He kinda reminds me of that one neighbor we’ve all had at one time or another, the one that is nice as hell but just a little too in to the patriotic expressions of any holiday. The guy that has an American flag on every piece of clothing he owns, has more guns than a National Guard armory but buys all the little kids on the block snow cones from the ice cream truck if he sees it go past. Yeah, him. He’s in every day it seems, just buying a few groceries for the day and talking to us employees. Just a nice seeming guy.
It’s what follows him around that really gets to me.
He has a hitchhiker, you see. Well, hitchhikers to be more accurate. They are ghosts that latch on to you because you meant something to them. Little kids usually have them if a parent dies or people who’ve had a spouse die; hell I’ve seen people with their best friends clinging to them if they were close enough. But hitchhikers sometimes cling for other reasons.
I’ll never forget when I noticed him and his passengers. I was just about to come on shift after my lunch break and I was turning the corner from the backroom of the store and onto the main sales floor when I bumped him. He reached out a hand to steady me because I nearly ass-planted like the graceless wonder I am with a small chuckle. When he did I saw her, his hitchhiker. This girl was, at that time, the most visible, real and tangible entity I’d ever seen.
She was a beautiful twenty year-old Vietnamese girl when she had died, and she died hard. Her naked body was bruised and stained with what I think, hell what I still desperately hope, was dirt. Blackened blood leaked from the gaping wound in her neck and stained her thighs as well. My mind shut down and I went into autopilot, mumbling some apology and scurrying towards the front end of the store. I firmly decided not to even think on what I had seen and to just pretend that nothing had happened.
I should have quit right then.
You see, like I said, he comes in every day. And every day for the past two months the hitchhiker has been a different girl. They are always naked, always beaten and they are always visible around him. I’ve tried to pretend that I don’t see them, but I can’t help but stare in horror as he walks around the store chatting with the other employees in his neighborly way. Last night he came in just before the store closed and I recognized the girl following him, she was an Amber Alert two weeks ago, a seventeen year-old junior from a nearby town who vanished while jogging. As he loaded his purchases onto the conveyer belt he leaned forward so that only I could hear his voice.
“She’s the prettiest one yet, isn’t she? But not as pretty as you.”
He gave that friendly grandfather-like smile and paid for his groceries.
I don’t want to go into work today.
it makes me so sad that with things like after effects etc that something like this is so easy to create. I like to see these things with a totally open mind tho. What if its not…what if its legit……can u imagine?
Taken at Edinburgh Castle, Scotland.
“I was working through my photos and took a while before realizing there was a ‘shadow’ at the far end of the corridor,” says Russell. “Upon zooming in, I thought that the shadowy figure on the back wall was a damp patch on the stone.
“It’s not a damp patch; look at the way the ‘damp’ cuts across the larger stone (as an ex-geo, I found this very odd), and even has an upward element on the ‘brim’ of the ‘hat’ (on the right).
“Well, as you sense, we’re all mighty confused. Upon entering the dungeon, it was much cooler than outside - obviously - but at the time of taking the first shot I remember a very chill blast, so much so that I looked around after the shot expecting to see a door having swung open to let in the wind. There was nothing.”
I know this one has been done a few times, it was a request. :) I just finished a peanut butter milkshake from sonic and now im burping that shit up from like the depths of my soul…
So I had this idea last night while i was playing candy crush at 3am because i couldn’t sleep… I kept hearing things…..
Monday is here again….. :/ Spent the day yesterday hung the fk over because i drank a lot of wine from a jug that happened to have fruit in it….Heres a creepypasta’s for ur morning. :D
Always leave work on Time - (creepypasta)
i relate to this because well…today has been a shit day… :/
This, literally has to be the most difficult story i have done so far….
My eye balls feel like theyre going to fall out of my face from the strain of editing.
Great story tho. Worth it IMO.
Abandoned Factory at Aberdeen, NJ, and the Anomaly that happened there.
ok this freaked me out a little.