Floating Woman

This is a story related to me by my parents.

Before my parents were married, my mother often visited my father at his house in Daanbantayan. At midnight, my father would send my mother home on his little motorcycle. This was their courtship routine.

My mother may have been granted permission by her parents to visit my father, but she was never allowed to stay the night; it was not a respectful thing to do then. So, at midnights, no matter what, my father would send my mother home.

Normally, the rides to my mother's home were uneventful, but there was one night when things were different.

The day was wet; it had been raining heavily. The courting couple remain indoors all day. They talked, cooked and ate together. My father's parents liked having my mother around because, apart from being a good company, she was a great help around the house.

That midnight, it was still raining so they waited a little longer. At around one o'clock in the morning, the rain had turned into a drizzle. My father quickly brought out his little motorcycle and hopped on. My mother climbed up and hugged him; it was going to be a cold ride home.

As they pass the main road and entered into a lonely narrow road, which would eventually take them to my mother's house, they saw ahead an old woman crossing the road. They thought nothing of her, even though she was carrying two kerosene lamps and walking very slowly---where was she going at that time of the night, in the middle of nowhere?

They were freezing in the cold wind so all they could think about was getting home as soon as possible. So, they rode by her without saying a word. After passing by her, both of them curiously looked into the motorcycle's handlebar mirror. What they saw, froze them completely. My father nearly crashed the motorcycle into a tree as he swerved about uncontrollably. He could not keep his hands still; they were trembling out of control.

Behind them, the old woman was floating in the air---her feet were almost three feet off the ground. Her hair fluttered in the wind as though an electric current was going through her body. Her eyes were burning furiously, like the kerosene lamps she was carrying. She was right behind, and appeared to be chasing them.

Although petrified, my father did not lose total control of his motorcycle. He rode so fast and furiously that he missed the turn into the road that led to my mother's house. He only slowed down after my mother alerted him about the turn.

Both my parents didn't know if the other had seen what each of them had seen. When they reached home finally, my father looked at my mother and calmly asked her.

"Nakakita ka sa tiguwang nga naglutaw?" which means, Did you see the floating old woman?

"Yes." She replied, shuddering.

They quickly entered the house and closed the door.

That night, my mother insisted that my father slept in her house. Luckily, he did, or he may not be alive today, and neither would I.

Submitted by Karmel Josephine O. Taok, 1227 Mar 2007, CEBU

Ghost In The Train

I am an Australian. This was my experience with a ghost when I was traveling from Hatyai to Bangkok.

I boarded the Express train at Hatyai Train Station. The journey was to be an overnight one. I would arrive in Bangkok sometime noon the next day. I had a sleeper ticket, which meant my seat would be unfolded into a bed at night. That would only be around 8pm. Before that, I had to endure sitting through the long and arduous six hours journey on the stiff seats.

It was a hot day and the train was slow. It stopped every half an hour, or so, at small town stations where more passengers and food vendors would aboard; it was good in a way—I could have a snack or two.

The seat in front of me was vacant, and an old woman was pushing her way through the small aisle towards it. She was struggling with her luggage. Naturally, being the nice guy that I am, I gave her a helping hand. I was amazed that her luggage— two heavy bags—were very heavy, too heavy for someone her age to manage.

She sat in front of me but avoided eye contact. I didn’t really expect a “thank you” anyway, so I went about reading my book. Once in a while I would sense her stealing glances at me. Every time I looked at her, she avoided my eyes. I assumed it was normal for 'Thais' to feel shy towards “farangs.” (Caucasians) Also, I doubted she spoke English.

Things started getting interesting when I had to take a leak. I smiled a courtesy smile at her as I moved one of her bags aside to make way. My, was I shocked! She looked YOUNG! Much younger than the 70 years old woman I saw just now. She had lost 40 to 45 years in two hours. She had become gorgeous.

I swear, I was more confused than scared.

When I returned back to my seat, I had my eyes on her every other minute because she was so beautiful and I was amazed at her transformation. I thought I was dreaming. Once, we locked eyes and I tell you, that did it for me – I was petrified!

There was a certain depth in her eyes like nothing I know... It's hard to describe. I felt pulled in. I was mesmerized. I must have stared at her for a full minute without taking a breath. My heart was pounding hard and fast and I sensed she knew that.

I remember trying to pull myself away but it was impossible. l was totally paralysed! Then, she smiled—it was sinister! I jerked back and was relieved to be freed from her bind. I wanted to get out of there but my knees were too weak. I was shivering, yet perspired like a waterfall under my arms. I sat there looking down at my book but could not focus with her staring at me.

It was tough but I managed to evade her eyes until it was time for the seats to be unfolded and made into beds. While the train staff worked on the bed, I stood silently beside her. I sensed her gazing at me and it made my knees weak, I thought I would faint. But luckily the bed was ready in minutes and I quickly climbed onto the upper deck, closed the curtains, took deep breaths and laid down.

I managed to sleep for a few hours, then, was awoken by the pressure in my bladder. I opened the curtain and to my horror, the old wrinkled face was right there behind the curtains. She looked at me angrily, then, opened her mouth to show me a pair of sharp fangs under her upper lips.

I shrieked like a girl and wet myself uncontrollably.

In my fright, I had pulled the curtains close. Some of the other passengers were awoken by my scream and had started a commotion. I was too afraid and embarrassed to come out. Seeing nothing amiss they all went back to sleep again.

I didn’t sleep or went out to dry myself. That's how scared I was.
On first light, I peeped out and to my relief, she was not there. I grabbed my stuff, fled to another cabin and stayed there, standing, until Bangkok station.

It was a horrible experience I never want to go through again.

Greg, 33.Radiographer, 2 May 2003.

*This story taken from http://eerietales.com

Ghostly Bouncing Marbles

My name is Donald, and like most Singaporeans, I live in a flat. If you've never lived in flats (apartments), well let me tell you, it can be very noisy at times having neighbours all over the place; on top of you, below you and both sides of you. Ok, that is nothing peculiar but what I'm about to tell you is.

In the early mornings, around 2 or 3 am, I hear bouncing marbles above my apartment. That, to me, is strange. Which parents would allow their kids to play marbles at that hour? What is stranger is I'm not the only one who has experienced this. My friends have reported to hear the bouncing marbles too. So, what is this then? Is there some other explanation? I'm still perplexed.

I haven't a clue to whether this would be considered paranormal, but I thought to share my story nevertheless.

Peace.

Haunting Clock from Malaysia - by Ali Osman

I once owned an old wall clock which was possessed.

The clock would function normally but whence came midnight, it would stop mysteriously. All I had to do was push the pendulum to swing and it would work again - until came midnight, of course.

At first, I thought it could be the position of the hands at midnight that were brushing against each other, causing the jam. But then, at midday when the hands were in exactly the same position as midnight, the clock never stopped. I was puzzled so I decided to send the clock to my friend, Mohammed, who was a skilled watch technician. After a day, Mohammed rang me up and urged me to take the clock back.

"A strange thing happened," he said. "The clock, upon midnight, starts to 'ding-dong non stop'".

Those were his exact words. He said he had to manually stop the pendulum from swinging, to stop the clanging.

I was tickled.

The next day, when I visited Mohammed at the shop, he looked tired and jumpy.

Mohammed said in Malay, "Jam kau masuk hantu, lah" - (Your clock is possessed by an evil spirit) He advised me to throw it away, but I couldn't, it was my late father's favourite clock.

I remember the day my father brought the clock home. He was so proud of it. He hung it on the wall and dusted it everyday. He would wind it every month without fail. He never let the clock stop, not even once.

Once, when my father was sick and could not get out of bed, he made my mother take care of the clock as if it were a living thing. My mother, being a submissive woman, never objected.

Although tickled, I felt uneasy after hearing the clock was possessed, I left it unused for a couple of days. During those couple of days, my nights were sleepless. I kept dreaming of an ogre pounding a giant club against an enormous brass gong. I would wake up in a sweat, and head would hurt the entire day. I knew my dreams were related to the clock for obvious reasons – the gong.

I realised I had to do something, so I decided to take the clock to a "bomoh" (psychic). I was told of a psychic living in a rural neighbourhood nearby, so I went there without hesitance. The physic was a very old and frail woman who was said to possess powerful spiritual magic. Apparently, she knew I was coming beforehand.

She handled the clock carefully, then mumbled some unintelligible verses. She looked at me and said indeed the clock was possessed, and an angry Jinn was trapped inside it.

I asked her how the Jinn got inside the clock in the first place. She replied it was put in there by my late father. The Jinn granted my father special favours, and in return, my father must feed it and keep the clock clean, for it was its home.

My father did do what was demanded by the Jinn, but when he died, we didn't. We neglected the clock for months, and that meant the Jinn was not fed.

In retrospect, I do remember good things started to happen after my father bought the clock. My father got a pay raise, and my barren sister gave birth to a baby girl - everyone was surprised, even the doctors. Yes, it's true, many good things did happen until my father died 5 years ago.

Maybe the Jinn's resentment had something to do with my wife's miscarriage 4 months ago. I don't want to find that out.

I left the clock with the "bomoh". I didn't want to have anything to do with it anymore. The memory of my father will come from my head and not from the clock.

Moral: Feed your pet tiger, always.

Paranormal - The Campus Imp - by Mario.

I was teacher once at Central Philippines University.

One night, reluctantly, I stayed behind after school hours to prepare the next day's test paper. I said "reluctantly" becuase it was a well known myth that the campus was haunted. Here is the account of what happened.

There I was, in my class, minding my work when I heard a “thud” sound coming from upstairs. Instead of jumping to obvious mythical conclusions, I discounted the thud as being caused by some unlucky colleague who was working late as well. Knowing I wasn’t the only one working, comforted me. I went on with my work.

Minutes of serenity passed. Then, I heard running steps coming from above. I was more curious than scared. I wanted to know why this person was running, so I got out of my class and made my way upstairs.

Upstairs, in one of the classrooms, the lights were turned on so I walked toward it. I peeped through the window but saw no one. I called, “hello, hello, anyone there?” There was no reply. I tried to open the doors but they were locked. I looked a bit more, then gave up, thinking whoever it was may have rushed to the toilet or the snack vending machine. It was too much trouble, so I returned to my class.

About half an hour or so later, I heard a laughter. It was a child like, high pitched, laughter coming from above! Right then, I was spooked. My imagination started to run wild. But I wasn't going to conclude anything until I saw with my own eyes what it was, so I dumped all my things in my bag, carried it with me and went upstairs again.

Peeping stealthily through the lovered windows, I scanned the room. Suddenly, something dashed accross the room, from left to right. It was a little hairy creature! Seeing the strange creature didn't scare me more than a start, but what happened next, did.

The creature ran from the left side of the room to the center, and Whoosh! It disappeared! In thin air, it disappeared!

Scared, I ran off without even looking back. My heart was pumping like it was going to burst out of my chest, I remember.

I swear, this is not my imagination! It was real!

I only saw it’s hairy back. It was around 3 to 4 ft in height. At first, I thought it was a chimpanzee. But upon further inquisition, I realised it was a popular mythical IMP, not a CHIMP. It was upright, ran on two legs like a little child and it didn’t have long “chimp” arms.

I was immidiately convinced the myth is not a myth, it's real. I saw it with my own eyes.

--Read more Asian Ghosts Stories at www.eerietales.com

Ghosts, Demons, Lost Souls, Vampires, Spirits

Here is the first story I promised. This is my personal experience.

The Sinking Grave Stone
It was a Friday, the day we had to hand up our photography assignment. My friend, Josie, had not done hers, making our teacher very unhappy, but he still granted her the weekend to complete her assignment anyway. Josie was in a tight spot, she had to work on the weekends to pay for her photography lessons, and today was the only day available to her. But, the day was already nearing dusk.

Right after our Friday lesson, I suggested to Josie we shot some grave stones at a nearby cemetery. She was apprehensive at first but relented after a little persuasion, and provided - I accompanied her.

We reached the cemetery just nearing sunset. With the sky darkening every minute, we had to hurry. Josie picked the very first subject she saw, a well weathered stone sculpture of Mary, and began fixing her camera up on the tripod.

While she was busy, I scrutinised the workmanship on Mary. Such dedication, such beauty, yet the artist is virtually unknown, I thought. I felt a little depressed and lonely thinking about his life.

Suddenly, I thought I saw the sculpture move - it tipped a little to the left! I felt a sudden chill ran up my spine, giving me goose pimples. Fearing freaking out, I denied what I saw; I didn't even tell Josie, fearing she freak out herself.

When Josie finished photographing Mary, we walked around a little more, given there was still daylight, and Josie shot more grave stones.

After spending about 45 minutes at the cemetery, I realised enough was enough. Even though I tried not to think about Mary's tilting figurine, I still sweat about it. I suggested that we got out of there before it got totally dark.

Packing up, Josie realised that she was missing an equipment - a 50mm lens. We backtracked until we reached a spot where we found the lens. Sighing with relieve, Josie bent down and picked it up. Looking around, we realised had come back to the very spot Josie had shot Mary's figurine earlier.

But there was no Mary!

We were puzzled. We knew for certain Josie had not used the lens for the other shoots, so the lens could only have been left behind near Mary's figurine. We searched frantically for 'Mary' but didn't find her. Rather, in place of her, was a dark patch on the ground. I walked toward it--it was a hole!

Had Mary sunk? I thought.

Then, we heard rusting noise coming from the hole. I leaped back in a start, causing Josie to shriek. The sound turned into a low rumbling voice. It said something, but we didn't make out what it was because Josie had grabbed me by the arm as soon as she heard the voice and pulled me away. We bolted out of there as fast as we could, droping Josie's water bottle in the process.

We were so fear stricken that we didn't dare talk about it.

Oh yes, about the film--All other gravestones were exposed well except Mary! I'm puzzled to this day how, in place of Mary, were totally black frames.

I went back to the cemetery on Monday with some classmates(without Josie), Mary was still standing at her spot with Josie's water bottle at her feet! I swear, I felt chills all over. With the help of my friends, I felt brave enough to try to move Mary, but her base was firmly set in the ground -- she didn't budge.

I don't know what to make of this phenomenon, do you?
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